Something that I find myself thinking about more and more, particularly within my work as an OT, is how much of our worth as human beings seems to be tied to our capacity to be productive.
How much can we do? How much can we earn? What have we achieved? What's next?
We seem to be in this constant race to achieve the next big thing. The next qualification, the next promotion, the bigger house, the higher income. And once we've achieved that, we're already looking towards whatever comes next.
It's exhausting, really.
And I think so much of this comes back to the capitalist society we live in, where our ability to produce, earn and contribute economically has become so deeply intertwined with how we measure success, and ultimately, how we measure someone's worth.
We've created this mindset where being busy is something to be proud of, where working ourselves to exhaustion is almost admirable, and where rest is something we need to earn.
And whilst there's absolutely nothing wrong with having ambitions, wanting to work, or finding meaning in achievement, I think we've lost sight of something incredibly important.
Our value as human beings should not be determined by how much we can produce.
Because what happens to the people who can't keep up with this constant expectation of productivity?
What happens to the people who genuinely cannot work? This is what happens when productivity determines worth, and I see it all too often in my daily sessions.
I work with people who genuinely cannot engage in paid employment. Not because they don't want to, not because they aren't trying hard enough, but because their disability means that employment simply isn't accessible to them.
For some, this may change with the right supports, adjustments and opportunities. For others, it may not.
And that's okay.
Or at least, it should be.
But we live in a society where so much of our financial security, independence and perceived contribution is tied to employment.
So what happens when someone cannot work?
Well, for many of the people I work with, it means relying on the Disability Support Pension (DSP).
And this is where I find myself becoming incredibly frustrated.
Because these are people who are already navigating significant barriers in their everyday lives. People who may struggle to leave their homes, manage daily activities, access their communities or maintain their health.
And then, on top of all of that, they're trying to survive financially.
According to the Australian Council of Social Service (ACOSS) and UNSW Sydney's Poverty in Australia 2026 report, 56% of people living in households primarily reliant on the Disability Support Pension were living below the poverty line in 2022–23.
56%.
That's approximately 362,000 people.
And I think we really need to sit with that for a moment.
More than half of the people living in households primarily reliant on the DSP were experiencing poverty.
These are people who are accessing financial support because disability has significantly impacted their capacity to work, yet the support they rely on is so often not enough to provide financial security.
And to me, that's incredibly dehumanising.
We have created a society where people's capacity to contribute economically is so closely tied to their ability to live comfortably, safely and with dignity.
And when someone cannot meet those expectations, they're left trying to survive within a system that doesn't necessarily provide them with the resources to do so.
How have we become so comfortable with that?
And something we need to remember, poverty is not an individual failure
I think one of the biggest problems with the capitalist mindset surrounding productivity is that we've also become very good at individualising people's circumstances.
If someone is struggling financially, the conversation so often becomes about what they could be doing differently.
Could they work more? Budget better? Make different choices? Be more motivated?
But what happens when there genuinely isn't anything more that person can do?
When their disability means that working isn't an option, and their income is determined by a government payment that may not cover their basic living expenses?
We cannot continue to place the responsibility for systemic problems onto the individuals experiencing them.
Poverty is rarely the result of personal choices, often it is shaped by the systems we create the resources we distribute and the decisions we make about who receives support, and how much.
The rates of income support, the availability of affordable housing, the accessibility of healthcare, these are all things that are influenced by political and economic decisions.
And those decisions have very real consequences.
I think there's something almost dystopian about expecting someone to prove, often through extensive medical evidence and assessments, that their disability significantly impacts their capacity to work, only for them to then be left struggling to afford the basics of living.
We acknowledge that someone cannot work, but we don't necessarily provide them with enough financial security to live without significant hardship.
And then we wonder why people are struggling with their mental health, their wellbeing, or their capacity to participate in their communities.
How can someone focus on their wellbeing when they're constantly worried about paying rent?
How can someone meaningfully participate in their community when they cannot afford transport, social activities or the things that bring them joy?
How can we talk about inclusion and participation whilst overlooking the financial barriers that prevent people from accessing those very things?
And this is where occupational therapy comes into the conversation for me, because we are so much more than what we produce.
One of the things I love most about occupational therapy is our understanding of occupation.
Because occupation is not just employment.
Occupation is everything we do that brings meaning, purpose, connection and identity to our lives.
It's having a coffee with a friend, playing video games, gardening, reading a book, spending time with family, being involved in our communities.
It's the everyday things that make us who we are.
And sometimes, it's resting.
Sometimes, it's doing absolutely nothing because that's what our body or mind needs.
These things might not contribute to the economy in any measurable way, but does that make them any less valuable?
Of course not.
And yet, I think we've become so conditioned to measure our lives through productivity that even our leisure and rest can become something we feel guilty about.
We feel like we should be doing more, achieving more, making better use of our time.
Even when we're exhausted.
Even when we're unwell.
Even when we've got absolutely nothing left to give.
And for people living with disability or chronic illness, this pressure can be particularly damaging.
Because when your capacity is already limited, living in a world that constantly tells you to do more can make simply existing feel like you're somehow falling behind.
But falling behind what, exactly?
Who decided what we should all be achieving, and by when?
And why have we accepted that this is how we should measure a meaningful life? Maybe we need to start questioning what we’re valuing.
I don't think there's anything wrong with finding meaning in work, I know I do.
I love what I do, and I recognise that employment can provide people with a sense of purpose, identity, connection and belonging.
But I also recognise that my ability to work does not make me more worthy of dignity, safety or financial security than someone who cannot.
And I think that's where we need to start challenging the way we think about productivity.
Because we've become so focused on celebrating people's ability to overcome adversity, to push through, to be resilient and to keep achieving, that we sometimes forget to question why they're being expected to overcome so much in the first place.
Why are we praising people for surviving circumstances that could have been made more accessible?
Why do we place so much emphasis on helping people become independent, without recognising that needing support is a completely normal part of being human?
And why are we so comfortable with the idea that someone who cannot work should have fewer opportunities to experience a meaningful, fulfilling life?
I think we need to be having much bigger conversations about the way capitalism shapes our understanding of productivity, disability and human worth.
Because when we start measuring people's value through what they can contribute economically, we inevitably create a hierarchy of who is considered productive enough, independent enough, or deserving enough.
And I don't think that's the kind of society we should be striving for.
I want to live in a society where people are valued because they are people.
Where someone who cannot work can still afford a safe home, good food, healthcare and opportunities to participate in their community and in activities that bring them joy.
Where needing support isn't treated as a personal failure.
Where rest isn't something we need to earn.
And where someone's capacity to generate income has absolutely no bearing on whether they deserve to live with dignity.
And I think it's about time we stopped expecting people to prove their worth through productivity, because you do not need to be productive to be worthy of a meaningful life.
You already are.
Reference
Australian Council of Social Service & UNSW Sydney. (2026). Poverty in Australia 2026: Who is affected.https://povertyandinequality.acoss.org.au/poverty-in-australia-2026-who-is-affected/
