Are we reverse engineering NDIS planning?

_{Author: Jon Anning}

When it comes to the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS), clarity matters. People need to understand what supports are available, what’s off the table, and most importantly, why. The current lists of what the NDIS consider supports and non-supports, created as part of transitional rules in 2024, were intended to do just that. But are they hitting the mark?

The NDIS Supports Rules Consultation Paper, released on 16 June 2025, seeks feedback on how the Scheme defines what it will and won’t fund. It asks for feedback on the lists and aims to find out if they are clear or not.  Are they asking the right questions? The paper asks specifically about the content of the lists, not where the lists sit in the lifecycle of a NDIS plan.

Long Lists of What’s In and Out

The first thing that is apparent about the lists is that they are long, really long. One document outlines 37 categories of what the NDIS can fund, and another has 24 categories of what it can’t. For the average participant, nominee, or even seasoned support coordinator, it’s a lot to digest.

The trouble is, these lists don’t apply context to a person’s individual situation. They attempt to categorically define supports as black and white. In reality, this is nuanced and grey. Something that might be “non-NDIS” for one person might be absolutely essential for another, depending on their disability, support needs and goals.

Take therapy, for example. The dictionary tells us therapy is a treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder. But the NDIS list of non-funded supports excludes a swathe of therapies like yoga, massage, and music therapy, deeming them not evidence-based or alternative. Are we confident those decisions reflect the latest evidence? Or are they built around a narrow interpretation of what therapy should be?

It seems more and more apparent that these lists are trying to replace a robust planning process. In theory, you should sit down with someone who understands your needs, goals and context, and together you shape a plan that responds to you, not just a generic checklist. But the current approach feels like we’re working backwards. Assess a person’s needs, then hand them a list telling them what they should have asked for.

We’re reverse-engineering planning.

Rules that Restrict, not Enable

This seems to be a symptom of a bigger shift towards rules that are easier to enforce, rather than supports that are easier to understand or use. Instead of supporting participants to build plans that reflect their needs and aspirations, we’re asking them to navigate a labyrinth of inclusions and exclusions with very little room for personalisation.

The NDIS was originally built to be flexible and responsive, recognising that no two people are the same, and that outcomes improve when support is tailored to the individual. Rigid rule sets can undermine this very principle. When funding decisions are driven by checklists and categories, rather than goals and outcomes, the system begins to reward compliance over quality.

Rather than promoting innovation or encouraging creative solutions, current rules often constrain service delivery to what’s safest or easiest to justify. Providers are incentivised to “stick to the list” instead of exploring emerging therapies, non-traditional supports, or community-based alternatives that may be more meaningful, or more effective.

The result? A planning process that doesn’t feel like planning at all. Instead of being an enabler of change, the rules are becoming gatekeepers, restricting access to supports that might foster independence, wellbeing, and community inclusion.

Are we prioritising outcomes?

If the NDIS is truly about building capacity and supporting people to live full, meaningful lives, then the rules must support, not override that intent. Outcomes like independence, connection, and improved quality of life aren’t always achieved through predefined categories. Sometimes they’re reached through unconventional pathways that don’t fit neatly into black and white lists.

So, while it’s important to provide clarity and consistency, we must be careful not to mistake that for rigidity. Quality planning can’t be reverse engineered through rulebooks. It starts with the person, not the policy.

The intention behind these lists appears to be good. To help people use their budgets confidently and avoid spending time and energy on supports that were never going to be funded. Maybe it’s time we asked a different question, not just what can be funded, but how do we design a system that trusts people, facilitates quality, and enables outcomes that truly matter?

Guides or Gatekeepers?

What’s the alternative? Maybe it’s not about scrapping the lists altogether, but putting them in their place, as guides, not gatekeepers. A quality planning process should be the foundation. The lists should support conversations, not stifle them. What process would we expect to better facilitate outcomes? The current reverse engineered model or a quality planning process that considers, disability, support needs and context.

Let’s shift the focus back to the person. Because no matter how long or detailed your list is, it will never fully capture what someone truly needs to live a good life.