he COVID-19 pandemic might be officially over, but much like a railway switchyard, it has already diverted countless lives onto wildly different paths. Millions of individuals will never revert to their pre-pandemic work routines, compelling both employers and employees to establish new models that cater to their evolving needs. But amid the ongoing experiments with hybrid models, we find ourselves confronting a deeper question: How much work is enough?
At least in developed countries, these post-pandemic shifts and experiments could trigger a labor-market revolution as profound as the changes in workplaces, schedules, and compensation that marked the transition from the agricultural age to the industrial era.
These changes can be viewed on two levels. At the macro level, the legally mandated eight-hour workday and 40-hour workweek are gradually giving way to a new equilibrium. This will likely be a long process, given that it took half a century of labor struggles, union action, and corporate experimentation to reduce daily working hours in the United States from 14 to eight and workweeks from seven days to five.
In 1914, the Ford Motor Company stunned its competitors by shortening the factory workday to eight hours while paying its workers a minimum wage of $5 per day. Congress codified this innovative practice in 1938 through the Fair Labor Standards Act, creating what cultural historian Fred Turner calls the “industrial-era social compact.” Similarly, recent experiments with a 32-hour workweek resulted in less fatigue, improved mental health, and enhanced life satisfaction. In fact, most participants say they will not revert to the old model.
At the micro level, millions of individuals have used the past three years to reevaluate the tradeoff between time and money. During the pandemic lockdowns, many workers adjusted to new working habits and relished the ability to pause, spend more time with their loved ones, or exercise and pursue leisure activities without the stress of commutes and office environments. These experiences later contributed to the so-called Great Resignation and the increase in “quiet quitting.”
So, when companies began to demand that workers return to the pre-pandemic status quo, the question, “How much work is enough?” prompted another: “Enough for what?” To earn a living? To meet our employers’ productivity expectations? To support our pursuit of happiness, or perhaps to retire? The answers vary, depending on who asks and who responds. For millions of low-income workers, the answer is simple: “Enough” means earning a living wage that enables them to support themselves and their families.
Among those privileged enough to be able to consider the tradeoffs between time and money, two groups of workers have, through their words and their actions, emerged as key players in the broader discussion about what constitutes an adequate amount of work.
The first group consists of caregivers, a sector still dominated by women but gradually attracting more men. In labor economics, “work” traditionally refers to paid labor involving the production of goods and services in return for monetary compensation. But following the integration of women into the workforce (including the workforce of labor economists), the field has expanded its focus to encompass unpaid work. This includes raising a family, making a home, and meeting the needs of those who cannot care for themselves. This care work, as activist Ai-jen Poo reminds us, is the “work that makes all other work possible.” For many, this form of labor holds as much meaning as their formal employment, or even more.
Suppose we expand the question “How much work is enough?” to encompass both paid and unpaid work. In that case, it becomes apparent that millions of people with caregiving responsibilities and paid jobs often find themselves working well beyond the conventional eight-hour workday. It should come as little surprise, then, that given the opportunity, many would opt to reduce their paid working hours in order to care for others. Given the social importance of care work, economic statistics and government benefit programs must recognize and account for this critical but unpaid form of labor.
Another significant group of workers asking, “How much work is enough?” comprises young people, particularly younger Millennials and Gen Z workers, many of whom entered the workforce during the pandemic. Just as many young people in the 1960s “turned on, tuned in, and dropped out,” embraced the counterculture, and rejected what they saw as the conformist striving of their parents’ generation, many Gen Z’ers are now questioning and rejecting “hustle culture” as yet another toxic Silicon Valley export.
Gen Z’ers were raised during two tumultuous decades marked by the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the introduction of the smartphone and social media, the 2008 financial crisis, and the pandemic. Today, they face downward social mobility, democratic backsliding amid intensifying political polarization, and a looming climate catastrophe. Given this historical backdrop, it is natural for them to question their parents’ habits and focus on maintaining their own mental and physical health.
Gen Z icons like Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka, who withdrew from major sporting events to protect their mental health, embody the drive, grit, and grind necessary to excel at the highest levels of their fields. But by rejecting the notion that their self-worth—particularly as trailblazing women of color—hinges on meeting others’ expectations of them, they demonstrated a profound understanding that personal well-being should not be sacrificed for external validation. Their insistence that life must be about more than producing and winning is an act of defiance against capitalism itself.
Since the emergence of ChatGPT and its competitors, discussions about the future of work have revolved around the extent to which human labor will remain necessary. To be sure, the integration of generative artificial intelligence into the labor market will bring about significant disruption, rendering traditional industrial-era work and workplaces obsolete. But regardless of what lies ahead, we cannot address the questions of where and how long we work without first answering the fundamental question of why we work.
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How Much Work is Enough?
Photo by Simon Abrams on Unsplash
May 26, 2023
COVID-19 disrupted how we think about work, potentially triggering labor market revolutions in workplaces, schedules, and compensation. It also raises a new—but also old—question: one of how much work we should be doing in a week, write Anne-Marie Slaughter and Autumn McDonald.
T
he COVID-19 pandemic might be officially over, but much like a railway switchyard, it has already diverted countless lives onto wildly different paths. Millions of individuals will never revert to their pre-pandemic work routines, compelling both employers and employees to establish new models that cater to their evolving needs. But amid the ongoing experiments with hybrid models, we find ourselves confronting a deeper question: How much work is enough?
At least in developed countries, these post-pandemic shifts and experiments could trigger a labor-market revolution as profound as the changes in workplaces, schedules, and compensation that marked the transition from the agricultural age to the industrial era.
These changes can be viewed on two levels. At the macro level, the legally mandated eight-hour workday and 40-hour workweek are gradually giving way to a new equilibrium. This will likely be a long process, given that it took half a century of labor struggles, union action, and corporate experimentation to reduce daily working hours in the United States from 14 to eight and workweeks from seven days to five.
In 1914, the Ford Motor Company stunned its competitors by shortening the factory workday to eight hours while paying its workers a minimum wage of $5 per day. Congress codified this innovative practice in 1938 through the Fair Labor Standards Act, creating what cultural historian Fred Turner calls the “industrial-era social compact.” Similarly, recent experiments with a 32-hour workweek resulted in less fatigue, improved mental health, and enhanced life satisfaction. In fact, most participants say they will not revert to the old model.
At the micro level, millions of individuals have used the past three years to reevaluate the tradeoff between time and money. During the pandemic lockdowns, many workers adjusted to new working habits and relished the ability to pause, spend more time with their loved ones, or exercise and pursue leisure activities without the stress of commutes and office environments. These experiences later contributed to the so-called Great Resignation and the increase in “quiet quitting.”
So, when companies began to demand that workers return to the pre-pandemic status quo, the question, “How much work is enough?” prompted another: “Enough for what?” To earn a living? To meet our employers’ productivity expectations? To support our pursuit of happiness, or perhaps to retire? The answers vary, depending on who asks and who responds. For millions of low-income workers, the answer is simple: “Enough” means earning a living wage that enables them to support themselves and their families.
Among those privileged enough to be able to consider the tradeoffs between time and money, two groups of workers have, through their words and their actions, emerged as key players in the broader discussion about what constitutes an adequate amount of work.
The first group consists of caregivers, a sector still dominated by women but gradually attracting more men. In labor economics, “work” traditionally refers to paid labor involving the production of goods and services in return for monetary compensation. But following the integration of women into the workforce (including the workforce of labor economists), the field has expanded its focus to encompass unpaid work. This includes raising a family, making a home, and meeting the needs of those who cannot care for themselves. This care work, as activist Ai-jen Poo reminds us, is the “work that makes all other work possible.” For many, this form of labor holds as much meaning as their formal employment, or even more.
Suppose we expand the question “How much work is enough?” to encompass both paid and unpaid work. In that case, it becomes apparent that millions of people with caregiving responsibilities and paid jobs often find themselves working well beyond the conventional eight-hour workday. It should come as little surprise, then, that given the opportunity, many would opt to reduce their paid working hours in order to care for others. Given the social importance of care work, economic statistics and government benefit programs must recognize and account for this critical but unpaid form of labor.
Another significant group of workers asking, “How much work is enough?” comprises young people, particularly younger Millennials and Gen Z workers, many of whom entered the workforce during the pandemic. Just as many young people in the 1960s “turned on, tuned in, and dropped out,” embraced the counterculture, and rejected what they saw as the conformist striving of their parents’ generation, many Gen Z’ers are now questioning and rejecting “hustle culture” as yet another toxic Silicon Valley export.
Gen Z’ers were raised during two tumultuous decades marked by the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the introduction of the smartphone and social media, the 2008 financial crisis, and the pandemic. Today, they face downward social mobility, democratic backsliding amid intensifying political polarization, and a looming climate catastrophe. Given this historical backdrop, it is natural for them to question their parents’ habits and focus on maintaining their own mental and physical health.
Gen Z icons like Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka, who withdrew from major sporting events to protect their mental health, embody the drive, grit, and grind necessary to excel at the highest levels of their fields. But by rejecting the notion that their self-worth—particularly as trailblazing women of color—hinges on meeting others’ expectations of them, they demonstrated a profound understanding that personal well-being should not be sacrificed for external validation. Their insistence that life must be about more than producing and winning is an act of defiance against capitalism itself.
Since the emergence of ChatGPT and its competitors, discussions about the future of work have revolved around the extent to which human labor will remain necessary. To be sure, the integration of generative artificial intelligence into the labor market will bring about significant disruption, rendering traditional industrial-era work and workplaces obsolete. But regardless of what lies ahead, we cannot address the questions of where and how long we work without first answering the fundamental question of why we work.
