Workers sang that song in the 1880s, protesting for an eight-hour workday at a time when the average was more like 12. They achieved that goal. But more than 100 years later, we’re still singing the same song.
Today, it’s the four-day workweek that’s gone from fringe idea to pragmatic policy consideration. Japan is recommending it in its economic policy guidelines. Iceland instituted a trial program that went swimmingly. And Spain is working on its own plan.
The push for a shorter workweek was already gaining traction before the pandemic. But COVID-19’s upending of office life has made it seem more plausible than ever—perhaps even necessary. Companies have realized that their hastily adopted flexible work policies can help attract and retain employees, and workers have proved they can adjust to radical shifts in their working lives.
Yet we keep thinking about work in a disappointingly narrow way.
Even as companies, activists and individual workers champion the idea of a shorter workweek, they’re framing it in old terms. We can get all our work done in four days, we promise. In fact, we’ll be more productive. No more unnecessary meetings. No more interruptions from our nonwork lives. After a three-day weekend, we’ll be rested and recharged—the better to hit the ground running on Monday morning!
It’s not that we want “an hour for thought”—it’s that working fewer hours will make us better workers.
When we focus on how a shorter workweek will make us better employees, we’re making the wrong argument to our bosses and ourselves.
The real benefit is that it would allow us to be fuller people. So why not discuss the four-day workweek in those terms?
In an admittedly unscientific survey, I asked Twitter followers whether they would prefer a regular four-day workweek or a month’s vacation—and why. Over 500 people responded. And nearly 85% wanted the shorter week.
Some clearly wanted the convenience of an extra weekend day, the ability to run those pesky errands that are constantly pushed out of reach by the ever-expanding workday.
But most said the four-day week would give them more time to do the things that make them … themselves. Some wanted to pursue a skilled pastime that would enrich their lives. Others thought they would spend the extra day with their friends and families—describing it not as drudgery or “child care,” the exhausting task that has pulled mothers especially from the workforce, but quality time. There was mention of various hobbies and associations, of going to museums, taking walks, spending time at church.
These sorts of activities are unlikely to be recognized as creating economic value. But they’re obviously rich in human value: the mastery of a craft, a connection created with others, an embeddedness in a particular community or place. Yet without enough free time, one can’t develop the relationships and commitments we need to truly thrive.
The United States has for decades been locked into an economic mindset in which growth, or at least its potential, is seen as the main barometer of success, and individuals are judged mainly on what we produce.
But the push for a four-day workweek suggests we do value other things—as we should. The trick will be learning to advocate for them on their own terms, with the same clarity and fervor with which we celebrate material and economic gains.•
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