Lauren Bennett
When the UK government announced sweeping changes to disability benefits, including proposed cuts to the Personal Independence Payment (PIP), alarm bells rang across disabled and low-income communities. For many, PIP is not just financial support - it’s the difference between independence and destitution. While politicians debate and delay, an entirely different response is unfolding on the ground. Mutual aid groups, once seen as emergency measures during the pandemic, are now becoming a lifeline. Across the UK, grassroots organizers are being forced to fill the gaps left by a threadbare welfare system, raising funds, distributing food, offering legal advice, and even stepping in to cover medical costs. But how sustainable is this? Can community-driven solutions truly replace state support, or are they just delaying an inevitable crisis?
The erosion of the welfare state
The UK’s welfare system was once regarded as a cornerstone of social security, but in the last decade, austerity policies have steadily eroded this foundation. The introduction of Universal Credit, benefit caps, and stringent eligibility assessments for disability support have already left millions struggling.
Now, the government’s proposed changes to PIP signal an even greater withdrawal from social welfare commitments. Officials argue that the system is too costly and open to abuse, framing the reforms as necessary to curb spending and prevent fraud. However, disability rights groups and social policy experts warn that these changes are part of a broader trend of eroding state support, shifting the burden onto individuals and communities.
Cuts to disability benefits are not happening in isolation - they come alongside reductions in housing assistance, stricter eligibility criteria for other welfare programs, and increasing barriers to accessing support services. If implemented, these policies could push thousands of disabled people further into poverty, homelessness, and social isolation. “It’s terrifying,” says Aisha Mahmood, a disability activist based in Manchester. “I rely on PIP to afford the basics—mobility aids, extra heating, transport. If that support disappears, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Filling the gaps left behind
As state support shrinks, mutual aid networks are stepping in. Unlike traditional charities, mutual aid groups operate on principles of solidarity rather than charity. They emphasize direct community support, bypassing bureaucratic red tape to get resources where they’re needed fast. Across the UK, these networks are expanding their efforts, not only providing food and financial relief but also offering advocacy, mental health support, and legal aid for those facing benefit cuts.
One such group is Solidarity London, which started as a food distribution network during COVID-19 but has since evolved into a vital resource for disabled and low-income residents. They now offer everything from food parcels to small cash grants for emergency expenses.
“We’re seeing more disabled people reaching out because they simply can’t make ends meet,” says Anna Fitzpatrick, a coordinator for the group. “People who were already struggling on PIP are now terrified of losing it. They don’t have time to wait for a political solution—they need help now.”
Mutual aid networks across the UK are adapting to this growing crisis in different ways. Groups like Disabled People Against Cuts (DPAC) have been fundraising to help those affected by benefit sanctions or delays. In some cases, they’ve covered rent and energy bills for disabled individuals facing homelessness. Benefits Justice connects claimants with volunteer lawyers and caseworkers to help navigate the increasingly complex PIP appeal process. Bristol Solidarity Network runs community kitchens and free grocery delivery services to ease the financial burden on struggling households.
Despite their success, most mutual aid groups acknowledge that they are not a long-term solution. Unlike the government, they don’t have access to sustained funding or large-scale infrastructure. The weight of filling in for a failing welfare system is immense, and burnout among volunteers is high. “We’re doing what we can,” says Fitzpatrick, “but we’re not the government. We can’t replace PIP. We can’t guarantee people security.”
Dr. Samuel Carter, a policy analyst specializing in social welfare, warns that the government’s increasing reliance on mutual aid is not sustainable. “Mutual aid was never meant to be a permanent substitute for state support. The concern is that as long as these groups exist, policymakers will feel less pressure to fix the underlying problems.”
The need for systemic change
For many involved in mutual aid, the ultimate goal isn’t just survival—it’s systemic change. Groups like Disabled People Against Cuts (DPAC) are not only stepping in to provide immediate relief but also actively challenging the policies that make their work necessary in the first place. Their approach is twofold: organizing direct aid to those who need it most while simultaneously pressuring the government to take responsibility for the people it has abandoned.
“We refuse to let mutual aid become a replacement for the welfare state,” says Aisha Mahmood, a Manchester-based disability activist and DPAC organizer. “It’s a lifeline, but the government should be the one providing it, not us.”
DPAC, along with other disability rights groups, has been leading protests against the PIP cuts, staging sit-ins, mobilizing online campaigns, and lobbying MPs to stop the reforms. Their message is clear: mutual aid should not have to exist at this scale. It is meant to supplement state support, not replace it. Yet, with every new round of cuts, the government is shifting more responsibility onto grassroots organizers and volunteers—many of whom are disabled themselves and struggling to get by. While mutual aid networks are built on solidarity, they are not bottomless resources. Organizers report burnout, dwindling funds, and an overwhelming demand that far exceeds their capacity.
Many worry that as these groups become more visible, the government will use their existence as an excuse to further cut state support. “We’ve seen it before,” says Tom Delaney, a policy researcher focused on welfare reform. “When communities step in, the government pretends the problem is solved and quietly withdraws even more funding.”
At a tipping point
The looming PIP reforms serve as a tipping point. If they go forward as planned, thousands of disabled people could see their benefits slashed or revoked entirely, forcing mutual aid groups to stretch even thinner. Some fear this could create a dangerous precedent—one where community-driven welfare becomes the norm, and government intervention becomes the exception. “This isn’t just about PIP,” reminds activist Mahmood. “It’s about the entire direction of social policy in this country. If we don’t push back now, what’s next?”
Despite the challenges, there is resilience in these movements. Mutual aid networks are not just reactive; they are shaping a vision of a more just society, one where care is prioritized over cost-cutting. They are forging connections between communities, educating people about their rights, and empowering those affected to become advocates themselves. Whilst mutual aid groups are doing everything they can to shield the most vulnerable, their efforts are not infinite. The real question is: when will the government step up? Until then, community power remains the last line of defense against a failing state.
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