Governor Hobbs Fought Back as Lawmakers Risked Disability Lifelines for Politics

In Arizona, the clock was ticking for nearly 60,000 people with disabilities. Their lifeline, the Division of Developmental Disabilities, stared down a $122 million budget shortfall that could have halted essential services by May 2025. Families, caregivers, and advocates held their breath, knowing that without urgent action, lives dependent on daily care would unravel. Governor Katie Hobbs stood at the forefront, demanding a solution to what she called a manufactured crisis, one born not of necessity but of political posturing.

This wasn’t just a budget glitch. It was a test of Arizona’s values, a moment that revealed whether the state would prioritize its most vulnerable or let them become collateral damage in a partisan tug-of-war. Hobbs, resolute, called for unity, urging lawmakers to set aside gamesmanship. Her plea resonated with families who saw their loved ones’ dignity hanging in the balance, caught in a system where funding disputes could mean the difference between independence and institutionalization.

The crisis exposed a deeper truth: state budgets aren’t just numbers on a spreadsheet. They’re moral documents, reflecting who we choose to protect. For too long, people with disabilities have been pushed to the margins, their needs treated as optional. Hobbs’ insistence on immediate action wasn’t just practical; it was a moral stand, a refusal to let bureaucracy betray those who need care the most.

The Division of Developmental Disabilities provides everything from in-home care to therapy for Arizonans with intellectual and developmental disabilities. Without funding, these services would have collapsed, leaving families scrambling and caregivers unpaid. Many of these individuals rely on programs like Parents as Paid Caregivers, which allows families to care for loved ones at home rather than in costly, isolating institutions. The thought of these supports vanishing sparked fear and outrage among advocates who have fought decades for community-based care.

This isn’t a hypothetical. When states cut disability services, the consequences are immediate and devastating. Waitlists grow, hours of care shrink, and people with disabilities face the risk of being warehoused in institutions, a practice advocates have worked tirelessly to end since the 1970s. The Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 promised equal access and opportunity, but without funding, those guarantees are hollow. Arizona’s crisis was a stark reminder that rights mean little if the resources to uphold them are withheld.

Nationally, the picture is no brighter. Proposed federal cuts to Medicaid, pushed by congressional Republicans aiming to slash $2.3 trillion over a decade, threaten to gut services for millions. These cuts, paired with plans to impose work requirements and cap funding, would force states like Arizona to either find new revenue or abandon their most vulnerable. The idea that people with disabilities should bear the brunt of fiscal austerity is not just misguided; it’s a betrayal of the social contract.

The Arizona legislature, dominated by Republicans, dragged its feet for months as the shortfall loomed. Some lawmakers pointed fingers at Hobbs, claiming mismanagement, while others debated raiding the Housing Trust Fund, a move that would have pitted one vulnerable group against another. This wasn’t governance; it was a circus, with real lives caught in the crossfire. Hobbs rejected these tactics, insisting on a solution that didn’t rob Peter to pay Paul.

The delay wasn’t just frustrating; it was reckless. Political polarization, a growing poison in statehouses and Congress alike, has turned budget negotiations into ideological battlegrounds. While lawmakers bickered, families like those relying on DDD services faced uncertainty, unable to plan for the future. This gridlock mirrors national trends, where partisan divides have stalled federal budgets and threatened safety net programs. The result? A system where the needs of the disabled are too often sacrificed for political points.

Advocates weren’t silent. Grassroots campaigns flooded social media, and public testimony at the state capitol amplified the voices of those directly affected. Their message was clear: disability care isn’t a luxury. It’s a necessity, a cornerstone of a society that values inclusion. Hobbs’ push for emergency funding, ultimately secured through a bipartisan bill signed in April 2025, was a victory, but it came too close to disaster. The reliance on last-minute deals is no way to run a state, let alone protect its people.

The bipartisan bill, HB 2945, was a lifeline. It tapped prescription drug rebates to close the funding gap, protected the Housing Trust Fund, and included reforms to ensure accountability without slashing caregiver hours. It was a rare moment of compromise in a polarized landscape, proof that solutions are possible when leaders prioritize people over politics. But this fix is temporary, and Arizona’s disability community deserves more than stopgap measures.

The broader fight is far from over. Nationally, the disability rights movement faces threats from policies that would erode decades of progress. Proposals to weaken the Affordable Care Act or eliminate protections against discrimination could push people with disabilities back toward exclusion and poverty. Advocates, especially those highlighting the intersectional struggles of people of color with disabilities, are mobilizing to resist these rollbacks. Their work reminds us that inclusion isn’t just a policy goal; it’s a moral imperative.

Hobbs’ leadership in Arizona offers a blueprint. By centering the needs of the vulnerable and rejecting divisive tactics, she showed what governance can look like when it’s driven by humanity. But she can’t do it alone. Lawmakers must commit to sustainable funding, not just for disability services but for the entire safety net. States like Illinois and New Mexico have invested in behavioral health and Medicaid, proving it’s possible to prioritize care even in tough times. Arizona must follow suit, ensuring that no one is left behind.

Arizona’s disability care crisis was a wake-up call, a reminder that neglect and delay have human costs. Governor Hobbs’ resolve, backed by advocates and families, forced a solution, but the fight for stable, equitable funding continues. People with disabilities aren’t asking for charity; they’re demanding what’s rightfully theirs: the chance to live with dignity, in their communities, surrounded by those who love them.

The alternative, a return to austerity and exclusion, is unthinkable. Lawmakers who prioritize tax cuts or political wins over human lives must answer to their constituents, especially the 60,000 Arizonans who nearly lost everything. The path forward is clear: invest in care, protect the vulnerable, and build a state where everyone has a place. Anything less is a failure of leadership and a betrayal of our shared humanity.