Please forgive the language as you consume your Sunday tea and toast, but this is how a senior WA leader in the disability sector described the National Disability Insurance Scheme last week.

“It’s a clusterf--k,” he said. “It’s the worst rollout of a social program I have ever seen in my life.”

For a behemoth that will cost taxpayers upwards of $22 billion a year, that’s a big alarm bell.

Camera Icon Gareth Parker

But worse, for too many people with disabilities — among the most vulnerable in our community and most deserving of support — the system is proving to be worse than what it replaced.

Every right-thinking Australian supports the intent of the NDIS, which is to furnish people with consistent, high-quality disability support over which they have choice and control.

But the people who rely on it, and their families, keep telling me stories about a reality well short of that. And there are mounting reasons to question the McGowan Government’s decision to hand over control of disability care to a remote Federal bureaucracy.

Ben, a quadriplegic from a surf accident 15 years ago, relies totally on others to get him in and out of bed, showered and cleaned for his office day job.

He receives daily house calls from Silver Chain, who move him from his wheelchair to his bed at 8pm, and return at 10pm to turn him over, to protect his circulation and prevent bed sores.

He’s just learnt Silver Chain will not participate in the NDIS, and has been unable to find an alternative provider.

This is not a criticism of Silver Chain, which promises not to leave Ben in the lurch. But, like other not-for-profits, including Baptist Care and Uniting Care, Silver Chain has decided it can’t make the NDIS funding model work financially, and so it is out.

“It’s disappointing to hear how many aspects of the NDIS are going, but I’ve got to say, I’m not surprised.”

That was former premier Colin Barnett, who heard Ben’s story on my 6PR program on Thursday,

“The (old) system here (in WA) was decentralised and very much focused on the care of the person with a disability,” he said of the former State-based system the McGowan Government has decided largely to scrap.

“The NDIS isn’t a care philosophy, but a financial entitlement philosophy. The aspiration is correct, and I don’t doubt the intentions ... but I don’t think it works. I think we’re too far down the track to go back. I think there are going to be lots of problems and lots of disappointments for people who have already got a tough life.”

Lest you think this is just a defeated politician defending his legacy, consider this testimony from someone who has spent a career in the sector.

Peter Batani spent 30 years at the WA Disability Services Commission, including 14 on its executive.

He was responsible for managing every aspect of the State’s funding to not-for-profit service providers.

“I heard Colin on your show,” he said. “Colin’s got the best understanding of these issues of any politician in the State.”

Batani said that for many people, particularly those with milder disabilities, the NDIS was an improvement because many got no support under the old State system.

But for people with complex or multiple disabilities, particularly those with a combination of intellectual and physical disabilities, the level of support under the new system is less than it was under the old.

And navigating the NDIS planning system is a nightmare for even the most capable families and advocates (woe betide anyone with an intellectual disability trying to do it on their own).

Since 2016, Batani has worked for one of the State’s biggest providers, Nulsen, as manager of business development, advising CEO Gordon Trewern and the board.

To illustrate the way the NDIS financial model has smashed service provision and providers, consider the case of group homes, supported accommodation for perhaps four to six people with complex needs.

Under the old WA DSC model, homes would be funded on a quarterly basis via service providers who ran them.

From time to time, people’s condition would worsen or they would die, leaving a vacant bed for 2-3 months until another suitable tenant was found.

The old system recognised this with its quarterly funding of the centre, rather than the individuals in it, but this is not the NDIS model.

Under the NDIS, funding is attached to individual, so the moment a person with a disability leaves a home or dies, the funding ceases, leaving a hole until a suitable candidate to fill the bed can be found and funding approved.

This is no small thing. Nulsen budgeted an extra $500,000 this financial year to cover the “holes”. But in fact, the situation has cost the organisation $700,000 to date, and the total cost could exceed $1 million by June 30.

That’s a big deal for an organisation with $15 million in annual turnover, and according to Batani: “That is being repeated in organisation after organisation.”

Australian taxpayers will spend $5 billion on the NDIS this year (about 10 per cent of that in WA) and WA taxpayers will chip in a further $200 million, Batani says.

“There is no shortage of money in the system,” he said. “It’s just the cash is being used for other things.”

Any major social scheme will have teething problems, that is to be expected. But there is mounting evidence these are not glitches, but fatal design flaws. Many more West Australians are set to join the scheme in 2019, and asked if things will improve as the scheme scales up, the disability services veteran Batani is clear: “No, they will get worse.”

Clarification

The original version of this column reported that UnitingCare could not make the NDIS financial model work and were "out".

UnitingCare West chairman Peter Fitzpatrick says the organisation "is still working assiduously to find a way of making NDIS work for our clients with disability and for the organisation."