There is a Chinese curse that states, “May you live in interesting times,” and we most definitely do.
We have an ageing population, a housing crisis that seems out of control, a healthcare crisis, a cost-of-living crisis, under-employment, precarious employment, and a massive moral liability dilemma.
Moral liability is the single most significant threat to the Western world.
With each new industrial age, we have gained a degree of mastery over our human condition and climbed Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. As such, we have been able to live and achieve better lives. Since the Second World War, in particular, human rights have evolved in ways that have greatly impacted government budgets and become a significant liability.
The productivity report was clear that the states would likely go bankrupt if they had to handle disability on their own, yet it was severely underfunded. Many weren’t receiving care, and abuse, neglect, and fraud were systemic. No one knew what that gap between the situation we were in and where we needed to be would truly cost.
It was wise not to waste time over-evaluating the system for a known outcome, which seems expensive and frivolous. However, it would have cleared the playing field and the blackboard, ready for the next step. Building upon poor foundations did not serve the new agenda.
There is hope as long as there is imagination. We can imagine a zombie apocalypse, nuclear war, and financial collapse, yet we don’t seem able to envision or even express the possibility of changing our capitalistic system into a benevolent and fairer one.
We must be bold and try new things because the old ways have reached their shelf life. We need to look beyond our shores for inspiration and also look within. If we are to remain a great country that realises its potential, we need to be that inspiration and have the courage to change how we have done things, or we will fail.
Social care is not tenable in our current system.
Not since the days of workhouses and centuries of charity has it ever been solved by valuing individuals solely by the burden they present in monetary terms.
To be blunt, looking back at humanity, it is clear that genocide, the Holocaust, and eugenics show the devastating effects that the loss of our humanity has on civilisations.
Not all KPIs are monetary.
The human cost of the Second World War is almost incalculable, as is the time it took for people to recover. Yet, decades later, tears are still shed in remembrance, and the value of their sacrifice is still treasured. The monetary cost for many to sacrifice so much for our human values and beliefs was equally unfathomable.
Yet we easily forget the value of our most significant resource: our people, staff, and workers. We have lost our way as a country and forgotten to value the people who make our nation great.
For the answers I sought, I looked back through history. I searched back 500,000 years to find what had made us successful as a species. We progressed and became a civilisation when we formed community groups and worked together. Community, compassion, and kindness were the secrets to our success.
If you look it up, Charles Darwin never said “survival of the fittest”; he spoke of the survival of the kindest.
Yet our society and financial systems, which are constructs of our own creation, are based on scarcity. The rarer something is, the more valuable it becomes. By that measure, kindness must be the most valuable commodity of all.
It will take many generations to reach some Star Trek utopia, even with the fast pace of modern technology. But if we can think it, we can do it. The only reason any person suffers from hunger, lack of shelter, or education is because we allow it. We have the potential to create any world we imagine.
I can dream, but I am not naĂŻve. I also discovered that the answers to the issues I was trying to solve existed centuries ago. In Israel, some communities revolve around inclusion, including communities for people with disabilities. There are intentional communities, hippy communities, aged care communities, religious communities, and dementia villages.
The words “HUB,” “VILLAGE,” “COMMUNITY,” and “INTENTIONAL COMMUNITY” are currently overused. With the United Nations’ deinstitutionalisation guidelines, the failure of group homes, and the exploitation of SDA, many seek ways to profit under the guise of good intentions. They want to create a nicer setting for bulk care. But what truly makes a community or village?
An intentional community means people with disabilities sit on boards and the community members create a mini constitution. But a community isn’t made up of just one kind of person. It includes families, spouses, siblings, children, staff, administrators, gardeners, nurses, and parents. Disabled children worry about their ageing parents just as ageing parents worry about their disabled children.
Sometimes, the answers lie in the past. We once faced issues with employment and affordable living for people with shared interests. The solution was model villages.
Model villages are not new; they are centuries old. We even had one in Tasmania—the Cadbury’s model village.
A micro-economy where people live and work together, providing services that attract others with similar needs. Staff are trained within the village and apprenticed in the broader community, generating social capital.
Our communities have been poorly planned, stripping social capital from our lives. Poor urban planning and lifestyles have placed a greater burden on governments to fill this gap.
A model village is designed to be a self-sustaining micro-economy with integrated community activities. Previous model villages were built for car manufacturing, textiles, and even chocolate production.
One of the most notable recent developments is Poundbury in Dorset, a project led by King Charles as Duke of Cornwall. When complete, it will house 6,000 people and is built on modern urbanist principles.
The Modern Urbanists Charter states: public policy and development practices should support neighbourhood diversity, pedestrian and transit-friendly communities, defined public spaces, and architecture that respects local history, climate, and ecology.
Thus, an accessible community village benefits individuals in wheelchairs. Though not based on the 15-minute city model like Paris, Poundbury embraces ecological sustainability and accessibility.
The term “village” is often misused when in reality, true design and construction are essential for success—a self-sustaining community.
Some people will be on DSP or NDIS and will be funded accordingly, but that is not the primary focus. The focus is on training staff, employing people with disabilities in village enterprises, providing accessible services, and reducing the cost of NDIS plans. The business model needs to change.
A token collection of houses does not make a village. It is not sustainable bulk care—it is not a solution.
We must find a self-sustaining solution that brings robustness and resilience to the social care framework, making disabled communities stakeholders in their own destinies. This is the ultimate safeguard.
Such a self-sustainable micro-economy can be placed anywhere—in the outback, in cities, or in large regional towns. It is a modular village and a model.
It can also be adapted for Indigenous communities with tailored care, education, and employment to sustain the community, allowing children to remain with their parents while robust education programs assist families in moving forward.
The model village is a mobile, self-sustaining panopticon that can be placed in various settings, including refugee camps and correctional facilities. It provides a new sustainable funding framework for social care requirements.
To have self-determination, one must be financially autonomous.
