As political funding decisions continue to pose threats to both the welfare of disabled people and the higher education sector as a whole, disabled students find themselves caught up in a crossfire of financial cuts.
This was the subject of many coffee-break conversations at this year’s National Association of Disability Practitioners Conference, at which growing concerns around the financial viability of supporting disabled students effectively were shared by a number of specialist staff across the sector.
As a practitioner, and as a disabled student myself, it’s hard to shake the feeling that current support mechanisms are stretched to their limits. Without urgent investment and reform, it’s disabled students who will continue to bear the brunt.
Earlier in the year, Jim Dickinson flagged the potential fallout for disabled students arising from reforms to Personal Independence Payment (PIP) proposed in the government’s Pathways to Work Green Paper.
With over 100 Labour MPs signing an amendment opposing the changes, if rumours about the government’s compromise are to be believed, new students will soon lose out on some of the support that many existing disabled students are entitled to.
In the months since the reforms were first proposed, I’ve heard from a number of disabled students who shared serious concerns about what these cuts mean for their wellbeing, autonomy, and academic futures.
“Without PIP, I would have to drop out.”
That’s what Alex*, a disabled student at the University of Brighton, told me. Alex currently uses their PIP to cover a number of health related costs, from “feeding tube equipment that isn’t covered by the NHS, mobility equipment and repairs, and [support to cover] additional travel costs to get to [their] appointments.”
Sadly, yet unsurprisingly, considerations of dropping-out of university are not uncommon. Recent data within the Advance HE Student Academic Experience Survey revealed that disabled students are almost twice as likely to have considered quitting, with 83 per cent of disabled students reporting challenges related to the cost-of-living.
In my day-job, I often encounter the mistaken assumption that Disabled Students’ Allowance has the ability to fill all of the financial gaps that disabled students may face throughout their studies. DSA can act as a vital source of support for study-related costs, but it is not designed to replace social security.
For many disabled students, Personal Independence Payment is a lifeline for maintaining independence whilst at university. But with persistent delays and restrictions on DSA support and the proposal to restrict PIP even further for young people, many students like Alex are at risk of starting their studies without access to either.
“I can’t work alongside my course with my health issues…”
In my own context, full-time students are expected to commit around 50 hours per week to their studies to meet the notional learning hours set by the SCQF. Yet, in the midst of the ongoing cost-of-living crisis, an estimated 68 per cent of undergraduates now work paid jobs alongside full-time study, exposing a continued disconnect between policy expectations and the lived reality of students today. A balancing act of work and study is unsustainable for many, and for disabled students, the pressures are even greater.
Abi* reflected this in her conversation with me: “I can’t work alongside my course with my health issues […] as student finance is so little, I use my PIP to stay afloat every month,” she says. “I wouldn’t be able to have my car, with my carer driving me – which is the only way I can get out of the house.”
At last check, Scope estimated that disabled households require an additional £1067 per month to meet basic living costs, as a result of the many financial barriers associated with existing as a disabled person in a society that is not constructed to compensate for a wide variety of access needs. Whilst PIP is not intended as an out-of-work benefit, many disabled students rely on it to fill the gaps left by inadequate financial support. Abi’s experience reflects the additional strain placed on disabled students by the “disability price tag”.
Accessible accommodation is “more expensive than most private rentals…”
Systemic barriers were emphasised by a number of the students I spoke with. For Daisy* securing accessible housing has been a particular challenge financially.
Reflecting on her own living situation, she said: “I live in a very inaccessible city and can only live in university halls,” “it’s more expensive than most private rentals, but there’s no alternative.”
Back in Brighton, Alex* shared similar concerns: “my only option is to live in university accommodation, which costs significantly more on average than most house shares in my city.”
These accounts reflect a wider set of structural barriers that have a direct impact on the disabled student experience. Recent data from Disabled Students UK highlighted that affordable, accessible housing is often scarce, with 46 per cent of disabled students reporting that they’ve ended up paying more for housing that met their access needs.
And housing can’t be considered in isolation – it’s tied to the broader context of inaccessible transport, barriers to timely healthcare, inadequate personal care support, and the high costs associated with assistive equipment.
When these basic needs go unmet, it becomes significantly harder for disabled students to engage with university life: academically, socially, and beyond. Abi shared this concern, expressing fears that the removal of PIP would prevent her from having a wider student experience: “without my PIP, I wouldn’t be able to do anything extracurricular.”
If disabled students can’t afford to live independently, how can they fully participate in university life, let alone thrive outside of it?
“Why can’t they see how hard I’m trying to find work?”
That’s the question Katie* posed to me when we spoke. Preparing to undertake a PhD in Newcastle, Katie found the transition from university into work daunting and unsupported. “There’s still an expectation that you get your degree, then get a job,” she said. “But there’s very little recognition of how much harder that is for disabled graduates.”
A recent report from the Shaw Trust highlighted the persistence of the disability employment gap amongst graduates, emphasising that the gap is not about a lack of aspiration, it’s about structural and systemic barriers.
Katie’s experience reflects a broader trend – while much of the discourse centres around “employability” and economic outcomes, little is said about the lack of disability-informed careers support or the inflexibility of most graduate job opportunities. “Trying to find ‘disability confident’ employers reduces the job pool even further,” she adds. “Half of the jobs which could be hybrid or online aren’t. And trying to find a flexible job that allows time for medical appointments? Nearly impossible.”
But it isn’t just about work…
These conversations emphasise access to equitable higher education risks being eroded by benefit restrictions, ongoing delays to DSA support, and widespread cuts to university funding.
While higher education institutions have made important strides in recent years, through the development of Disabled Student Commitment, and an increased focus on compliance with the Equality Act, service cuts across the sector threaten to undermine that progress.
According to our research at Disabled Students UK, only 38 per cent of disabled students currently feel that their support needs have been met by their institution. As public funding continues to shrink, many universities are being forced to reassess spending, with many opting to restructure services and streamline provision. But if disabled students are sidelined in these processes, the consequences will be stark.
In a climate of compounding cuts, institutions must take care to ensure that the interests of disabled students are not excluded from decision-making or deprioritised in budget reviews. Otherwise, we risk further entrenching inequity within a sector that prides itself on widening participation.
At the heart of all of this is one clear message – disabled students are not asking for luxury. They’re seeking the basic conditions needed to study, participate, and succeed. If we cannot meet even the baseline needs of disabled students, at both an institutional and state level, then we need to seriously question what kind of higher education system we are building, and who it’s truly for.
Disabled Students UK’s Annual Disabled Student Survey, the largest survey into HE accessibility and the disabled student experience in the UK, is open for responses until the end of July.
Important article. When I was at University, my friends got jobs in hospitality that weren’t open to me as a wheelchair user. I was fortunate that my university’s disability office had paid roles on offer for disabled students to provide peer support to other disabled students, which suited me very well – with the changes to the sector in recent years, those roles are no longer available.
Taking PIP away from a student and telling them to get a job if they want enough money to compensate for the additional costs they face due to disability doesn’t make any difference to employers – they don’t appoint people who are most in need of money, they appoint the people they think will be best for the job… (I was unemployed for 2 years after graduation, as it took me that long to find an employer who thought I was best for the job (and I was fortunate that it was a good job that matched my skills)).