The Aged Care Act’s ‘Improved rights’ are a myth to deflect from crushing fees

In the lead-up to the new Aged Care Act coming into effect on 1 November 2025, the Albanese government trumpeted it as a landmark reform, promising stronger, enforceable rights for older Australians. Minister for Aged Care Anika Wells and her colleagues positioned it as a “rights-based” system that would empower seniors, ensuring dignity, choice and equitable access to care.

Yet, just over two weeks in, the reality is emerging as a stark betrayal. Far from delivering meaningful improvements, the Act has entrenched a co-payment-heavy model that is already forcing vulnerable seniors to forgo essential services, eroding their independence and burdening families.

This is not progress; it is a cynical smokescreen designed to deflect from the financial sting of the new Support at Home program, which replaces the Commonwealth Home Care Packages and shifts costs onto those least able to bear them.

Professor Kathy Eagar, a respected aged care economist and adjunct professor at the University of Wollongong, laid bare the emptiness of these claims in a recent interview. When asked if the Act would grant older Australians any extra enforceable rights, Eagar was unequivocal: “It is very hard to see that there are any tangible rights at all. There are some administrative changes, but those administrative changes are nowhere near the rights-based aged care system that we have heard so much about.”

She dismissed the day-to-day impact as negligible, stating, “I do not believe that I have seen anything that tells me that life for somebody in aged care or trying to get into aged care next week is going to be any different than it is this week.”

Eagar’s critique goes further, accusing the government of using the “rights-based” rhetoric as a distraction from the Act’s true agenda: ramping up consumer co-payments. “Absolutely it is,” she said when questioned if this was a smokescreen for rising charges. Under Support at Home, clinical care remains government funded, but non-clinical services such as personal care, cleaning, shopping and gardening now require contributions of up to 50 per cent for personal support and 80 per cent for everyday living aids for self-funded retirees. Pensioners pay 17.5 per cent for everyday services, with part pensioners facing means-tested hikes. Eagar slammed this structure as unethical, arguing co-payments should be capped at no more than 10 per cent of fortnightly income. “We should not be expecting people to choose between a shower or a meal,” she warned.

This sentiment echoes across the sector, where early anecdotes reveal the human cost. Take the case of 78-year-old Janet Teusner, a self-funded retiree whose daughter, Carolyn, has publicly decried the system’s inequities. Approved for a Level 4 package earlier this year after the 12 September 2024 cut-off for grandfathering, Janet’s daily fees have tripled from 38.72 dollars to 98.38 dollars, despite identical care needs to those under the old system.

“This is not just a financial issue. It is about fairness, dignity and equal treatment,” Carolyn wrote in an open letter to Minister Sam Rae. Comments from affected families paint a grim picture. One full pensioner on a Level 3 package faces 75 dollars in weekly co-payments they cannot afford, leading to hardship applications buried in bureaucracy. Another self-funded retiree saw hourly fees jump from 68 dollars to 118 dollars, forcing a reduction in hours or dipping into savings at 1,478 dollars monthly out-of-pocket.

These stories are not anomalies; they are the predictable fallout from a model that prioritises sustainability over accessibility. The government projects 18.8 billion dollars in savings over the forward estimates from increased co-payments. Yet this saving ignores the downstream costs: skipped showers risking infections, unassisted tasks leading to falls and social isolation from unaffordable outings exacerbating mental health issues.

Hospitals will bear the brunt, with premature admissions to residential care, which is far more expensive, becoming inevitable. As one commenter noted, “The future looks grim as residential care will not be able to cope with the influx, and the hospitals will become even more full of aged people unable to look after themselves because they have run out of money.”

The Older Persons Advocacy Network, funded by the government to represent seniors, has defended the Act, with CEO Craig Gear hailing the Statement of Rights as a “transformational shift in power dynamics.” He cited examples like the right to “exercise choice and make decisions,” including determining shower times, claiming this as a novel empowerment. But this rings hollow. Such choices are already standard in the vast majority of aged care homes, as sector insiders confirm.

Gear acknowledged concerns over co-payments reducing purchasing power and pledged to monitor impacts, including through a Senate Inquiry. Yet OPAN’s responses skirt the core criticism. When pressed on whether the Act changes little in rights or protections, Gear offered platitudes about it being “long overdue” and expressed confidence in its intent, despite expecting “teething issues.”

The independence of senior advocacy groups has also come under scrutiny in the fallout from the Act’s implementation. Gear insists that OPAN is “independent and non-political,” drawing on case studies from over 52,200 advocacy supports last year. But critics question the role of peak bodies like OPAN and COTA Australia, accusing them of “holding hands with government singing kumbaya” rather than challenging policies that disadvantage seniors.

“Who is actually advocating for the ordinary older person trying to navigate this very complex system?” one commentator asked. OPAN’s government funding raises inevitable conflicts. While Gear affirmed they “will not hesitate to raise concerns,” their muted response to co-payments, focusing on tweaks like including showers in clinical care, is not the robust opposition that seniors needed to prevent current circumstances.

The Department of Health and Aged Care’s responses are equally evasive, provided “on background” without direct attribution. They reiterate rights to “quality and safe aged care services” and strengthened powers for the Aged Care Quality and Safety Commission, but offer no specifics on how these translate to daily improvements. On costs, they defend the model as sustainable amid an ageing population, with protections like lifetime caps and hardship provisions. Yet these ring false for families like the Teusners, where “no worse off” assurances crumble under arbitrary cut-off dates. The department sidesteps the levy question, recommended by the Royal Commission but dismissed politically, opting instead for means-tested contributions that Eagar calls inefficient and fragmented.

This is not reform; it is regression. The Albanese government campaigned on fixing aged care after the Royal Commission, yet ignored its key funding recommendation: a levy, similar to Medicare, to share the burden equitably. As Eagar noted, “Good economics is good politics is good social development.” Instead, they have created a two-tier system that punishes self-funded retirees and low-income pensioners alike, entrenching ageism and intergenerational inequity.

Seniors are not “cashed-up boomers” living off the public purse, as public perception sometimes paints. Many enter care in their eighties with minimal savings, as Eagar’s data shows. Only 15 per cent of octogenarians have over 100,000 dollars in super.

Aged care is everyone’s business, your parents, your grandparents and eventually you. By prioritising electoral survival over seniors’ dignity, the Albanese government has sold out the vulnerable for short-term gains. As waiting lists balloon, with nine to twelve months in some regions, assessments privatise with conflicts of interest, and providers become debt collectors, the human toll mounts.