Ben Harvey: $42b NDIS out-of-control gravy train in dire need of overhaul

I have a thought experiment for you today that will probably exercise your mind a little more than my usual offerings.

If you are slightly hungover and your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, I would recommend coming back to this story.

To be part of this experiment I need you to clear your mind and close your eyes.

Actually, don’t do that because you won’t be able to read.

I need you to relax (with your eyes open) and think of the kind of society and system of laws you would create if you had the unfettered power to do so.

Imagine you were dictator for a day, able to do anything at the snap of your fingers because there was nobody to oppose you.

Basically, I want you to pretend you are WA Premier Mark McGowan circa early-2021.

What’s first on your agenda?

I don’t know about you, but I want lower taxes.

If you’re reading this column in a newspaper then you are probably smarter than, and have a few more bucks than, the average bear.

You’ve likely paid a lot more in tax than you’ve got back, so why not lower that marginal rate a little?

Tougher penalties for criminals? Damn right.

In my experience, newspaper readers (like newspaper columnists) are more likely to be victims of crime than perpetrators.

Park on my verge without seeking my permission? Parole denied.

Rev your Harley-Davidson for no reason as you ride down a suburban street? Hard labour.

Take more than two photos of the dish that’s just been served at your table? See what happens in the new world order, buddy.

What about drug policies?

The current ones don’t seem to work so maybe we need a bit of tough love in that department.

See how easy it is? In barely a minute we’ve created a happy place where you pay little tax, criminals are incarcerated for blinking too loudly, motorists respect your eardrums (and your lawn), and people who take food selfies are summarily executed.

Happy days.

Now for part two of the thought experiment.

Clear your head and imagine how you’d construct a society and system of laws assuming you had no idea whether you were rich or poor, intelligent or dense, black or white, or prone to illness or healthy.

The concept of not knowing who you are, or your personal circumstances, is called the “veil of ignorance”. It was promoted by American philosopher John Rawls.

Bit heavy, eh?

“Why doesn’t he just shut up and write about his stupid dog like he usually does?” I reckon a few of you are thinking.

Sorry, today I’m asking you to eat some vegetables.

The “veil of ignorance” is a moral reasoning device designed to promote impartial decision-making by denying decision-makers access to potentially biasing information about who will benefit most or least from the available options.

If you think the wording in that definition is unusually eloquent and precise for me, it’s because I lifted it word-for-word from the US National Academy of Sciences.

So, how would your dream society change if you weren’t guaranteed to be the upstanding citizen that you currently are?

What if there was a chance you might be a heroin addict? Would you temper your tough law-and-order agenda if you knew there was a risk of that?

Would you be so quick to cut money flowing to the “Aboriginal industry” if you thought there was a chance you’d be born into a community outside Roebourne?

How would your imagined political, economic and legal system be tweaked if, instead of being a happily married mum of two in Applecross, you were a twice-divorced mum of seven in Armadale?

I have often thought about the veil of ignorance premise but never had a reason to write about it.

I found the reason in a carpark at the Floreat dog beach a little while ago.

“Oh good, this column is actually about his dog after all,” some of you are probably thinking.

Nope, this column is actually about the one thing in the world that’s simultaneously as well-intentioned and out-of-control as an Irish red setter: the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

The car I pulled up next to at the dog beach was owned by a disability services provider.

I know this because it had an “Accredited NDIS Provider” decal on the side, and “I heart NDIS” stickers all over it.

The car was a brand-spanking-new Ford Ranger Wildtrak.

That’s an expensive ride at base model, and this one was loaded with all the fruit. Jacked-up suspension, snorkel, wheel arch flares, Rhino roof rack, roller-shutter tray cover, extra-wide Goodyear Wrangler tyres.

It was like a Ford dealership after-sales department had spewed all over this thing.

If it was worth a buck less than $100,000 I will eat the ARB bull bar (and spotlights) that were on the front of it.

“How the hell does someone in disability services afford a car like that?” I thought as I watched my dog disappear into the sand dunes in pursuit of a seagull.

A couple of weeks later, I found out how.

Disabilities Minister Bill Shorten fronted a press conference to talk about how, at $42 billion a year, the NDIS was devouring too much of the Federal Budget.

There were too many snouts in the trough, and he was going to crack down on services covered in order to limit the annual growth rate to 8 per cent.

Limit the growth rate to 8 per cent.

Bill was fretting because the NDIS, which already costs more to run annually than the aged care system, Medicare and the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme, and was about to overtake the age pension as the most expensive line item in the Federal Budget.

Bill was so worried about the impending fiscal cliff he forgot to mention the fact he created the NDIS and the rules that govern it …

Everyone knows the NDIS is out of control. Our policymakers, led by Shorten, have failed us, and we need to cut costs.

I just hope the bureaucrats tasked with reining in expenditure apply the veil of ignorance when they look at the ledger, and that before they get out the red pens they think “There but for the grace of God go I”.