A solicitor I know in Hobart described an executor commission dispute he’d just settled as “two years of family dinners ruined over $42,000.” That’s about right for the scale of these disagreements. Estates worth a few million dollars aren’t unusual any more — house prices have done that math for us — and the executor’s slice of administration is no longer a token thank-you. It’s a real number, and increasingly people fight about it.

Australian probate law on executor remuneration is older than most people realise and patchier than most people assume. Each state has its own statutory machinery. New South Wales runs on section 86 of the Probate and Administration Act 1898, which talks about “such commission or percentage as the Court thinks fit” not exceeding 5% on capital and 6% on income. Victoria’s section 65 of the Administration and Probate Act 1958 is similar in flavour but quite different in phrasing. Queensland, South Australia, Western Australia and Tasmania all have variants. The numbers and the ceilings differ. The principle — that executors are entitled to reasonable compensation for “pains and trouble” — is shared.

Where the fight actually happens

Three patterns recur in the disputes I see.

The first is the will that’s silent on commission. The default position in most jurisdictions is that an executor is not automatically entitled to anything beyond reimbursement of out-of-pocket expenses. They have to either get the consent of the beneficiaries (with all of them being adults of capacity, fully informed, and not under any influence) or apply to the court. In a tense family this is the trigger point. A sibling executor expects gratitude. The other beneficiaries see the executor’s solicitor’s letter requesting commission and read it as a grab.

The second is the will that fixes a commission, often at “the maximum allowable by law.” Drafting like this is showing its age. What was a polite default in the 1990s now looks excessive when the estate has appreciated to $4 million and the executor’s actual workload was three weeks of phone calls and two meetings with the accountant. Beneficiaries challenge these clauses on the basis of undue influence in the will-making, or argue that the commission should be reduced under inherent jurisdiction. Courts are increasingly receptive.

The third pattern is the professional executor — a trustee company or a solicitor — operating under a fee schedule that wasn’t fully explained at the time of will-signing. The fee schedules for trustee companies in 2026 typically run between 1.1% and 4.4% of capital depending on complexity, plus annual administration fees during any continuing trust. On a $5 million estate that’s a substantial number, and the fight is often about whether the testator really understood it.

What the courts actually look at

Reading the recent decisions — and the NSW Supreme Court has been particularly active on this — the factors that drive an executor commission outcome are reasonably consistent. The size and composition of the estate (a portfolio of listed shares is administratively easier than a working farm). The time actually spent. The complexity of the assets, including any contested aspects, business interests, or international elements. The skill required. Whether the executor was also a major beneficiary (in which case courts tend to assume some of the work is already its own reward). And whether there were any errors or delays attributable to the executor.

The percentages that result, after all that, are usually well below the statutory ceilings. A straightforward NSW estate with a residential property, some super, and a share portfolio might produce a 1.5% to 2% commission on capital after a contested application. Executors who’ve genuinely done the work — sold a business, dealt with an international beneficiary, navigated a contested aspect of the estate — can land closer to 3% or 4%, but rarely the 5% maximum. The NSW Supreme Court’s published probate decisions are a useful source if you want to read how individual cases get reasoned through.

The drafting that prevents the fight

If you’re writing a will today and you have any sense the estate will be over a couple of million, the clauses that head off the dispute tend to do three things. They specify what the executor will be paid (a fixed sum, or a percentage with a cap, or a “professional rate” with reference to time records) rather than leaving it to “the maximum allowable.” They acknowledge the relationship between executor and beneficiary explicitly — if a child is the executor and also a residuary beneficiary, the will can simply state that no separate commission is payable, removing the question entirely. And they address the professional executor scenario by attaching the relevant fee schedule to the will at the time of signing, with a witnessed acknowledgement.

It’s worth knowing that informal commission agreements between executors and beneficiaries don’t always hold up either. A signed deed of family arrangement at the time the executor takes office is the cleaner path, and it lets everyone know in advance what number is on the table.

The estate planning conversation has shifted in the last few years from “who do we trust to be executor” toward “what does the executor’s job actually look like and what’s it worth.” That’s a healthier conversation. It’s also one most testators still aren’t having until it’s too late to fix the documents. The Hobart solicitor’s $42,000 dispute, like most of them, was a drafting problem disguised as a family problem. The two are usually the same problem at different stages.