Technology promised to set us free, yet here we are in the 21st century still clocking roughly 40 hours a week on the job. Over a century ago, workers bled and fought to cut grueling 10–16 hour days down to an “eight-hour day” – a standard that eventually became the Monday-to-Friday, 40-hour workweek. Visionaries like economist John Maynard Keynes even predicted that by 2030, people would only need to work 15 hours per week thanks to technological progress. In reality, automation and digital tools have made each worker astonishingly more productive – one estimate says an average worker today produces as much in 11 hours as a worker in 1950 did in 40 hours. Yet instead of enjoying four-day weeks or six-hour days, most of us remain trapped in the same 40-hour schedule of the industrial age. Why haven’t our work hours shrunk even as our efficiency skyrocketed?
The answers lie in how the benefits of productivity have been distributed – or not distributed – among society. Rather than translating into shorter workweeks and more leisure for all, the gains from automation and efficiency have largely flowed to business owners and shareholders as profits, or been absorbed by new work and higher output expectations. As one analysis bluntly put it: “We’ve been stuck with a five-day workweek, and the gains from productivity improvements have either been lost due to Parkinson’s Law or channeled into the owners’ pockets.” In other words, work expands to fill the time available, and whatever time-saving technology gives us, we often fill with even more work – benefiting corporate output and earnings, but not workers’ free time. Meanwhile, cultural norms still glorify long hours as a badge of dedication, and policy frameworks have hardly budged from the 20th-century 40-hour template.
This report will explore in depth why the 40-hour workweek persists despite massive automation-driven productivity gains, examining historical, economic, and cultural factors. We’ll compare the United States with other countries – from the shorter workweeks of Germany to the notoriously long hours in Japan, South Korea, and China – to see how different societies are (or aren’t) breaking free of the 40+ hour norm. Crucially, we will see that all facts support a common story: without deliberate choices to share the fruits of progress with workers, technology alone won’t reduce working hours. From the hard-won victory of the eight-hour day to today’s conversations about four-day weeks, understanding this paradox is key to reclaiming our time in the age of automation.
From 100-Hour Weeks to “Eight Hours for All”: A Brief History of the Workweek
Workers march in 1867 celebrating the achievement of the eight-hour day – a labor movement milestone that required decades of struggle. Prior to the 20th century, 10–16 hour days were common, and even children toiled long hours in factories.
It’s easy to forget that the 40-hour, five-day workweek is a relatively modern idea – and a hard-fought one at that. In the 19th century, it was common for laborers in industrializing nations to work 10 to 16 hours per day, six or seven days a week. In the United States, manufacturing workers in 1850 put in well over 3,000 hours per year, equivalent to ~60–70 hours per week. Early labor activists rallied around the slogan “Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, and eight hours for what you will,” demanding a humane limit to the workday.
This struggle often met fierce resistance from employers. For example, San Francisco’s workers briefly won an eight-hour law in 1868, only for employers to recruit outside labor and overturn it a few years later. Elsewhere, protests for an eight-hour day culminated in events like the 1886 Haymarket Affair in Chicago, where workers died pushing for this cause. The 40-hour week we take for granted was literally, as one commentator noted, “written in blood and struggle” by our ancestors.
In the early 20th century, momentum finally shifted. Pioneering industrialists found that shorter hours could actually boost productivity. A famous case was Henry Ford: in 1914 he shocked the manufacturing world by doubling his workers’ pay and reducing their schedule to 8-hour shifts (from a 9-hour day). Ford’s move – a $5 day for eight hours of work – “immediately boost[ed] productivity” on his assembly lines and improved worker loyalty. By 1926, Ford Motor Company had adopted a five-day, 40-hour week for its factories, reasoning that workers deserved both a break and would be more efficient with proper rest. “It is high time to rid ourselves of the notion that leisure for workmen is lost time,” Henry Ford said, noting that giving employees weekends off could raise their effort and focus during the remaining days. Other companies soon followed suit, and the concept of a Monday-to-Friday workweek became standard.
In the United States, the Great Depression further cemented the 40-hour norm. The Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 established the 40-hour workweek as the threshold, mandating overtime pay beyond that. This not only protected workers from excessive hours without extra compensation, but in theory also encouraged employers to spread work among more people (since beyond 40 hours it costs extra). By mid-20th century, across much of the industrialized world, a roughly 8-hour, 5-day workweek was the norm – an extraordinary social achievement compared to the 19th century.
Crucially, this reduction in hours was accompanied by soaring productivity in the early-mid 20th century. New technologies (from electrification to assembly lines) and better worker training meant that fewer hours were needed to produce the same output. Indeed, average working hours per person in developed countries plummeted from about 3,000 hours per year in 1870 to between 1,500 and 2,000 hours by 1990. In other words, over that long arc, prosperity and productivity gains did translate into significantly shorter working time. By 1950, a typical American employee’s annual hours had fallen to around 2,000 (roughly 40 hours * 50 weeks) from levels near 3,300 in 1900. And as Keynes and others observed these trends, they began to imagine a future where the progress continued exponentially – perhaps freeing humanity from drudgery altogether.
The Lost Vision of a 15-Hour Week
Back in 1930, Keynes optimistically predicted that within a hundred years (by 2030), technological progress would be so advanced that “three-hour shifts or a fifteen-hour week” could suffice to satisfy our economic needs. He believed the challenge would become how to use our abundant leisure time! Similar utopian visions were popular through the mid-20th century; in the 1960s, U.S. Senate subcommittees heard experts predict a four-day workweek by the year 2000, and books were written about the coming “leisure society.”
However, as we approach Keynes’ 2030 deadline, reality has clearly defied the dream. People obviously work far longer than 15 hours a week today – in fact, the standard full-time schedule is still around 40 hours (or more) across the world. To be sure, we do work less than we did in 1930 or 1950 on average. The typical American, for instance, went from nearly 2,000 hours per year in mid-century to about 1,750 hours/year now. But progress largely stalled out: since around 1980, the average U.S. workweek has barely shortened at all. Many other rich countries saw a more notable drop in hours during the late 20th century (as we’ll explore later), but even in the most relaxed economies, nobody is near a 15-hour weekly average. Why did Keynes’ prophecy fail?
Part of the answer is that productivity gains did continue – but they were directed toward producing more stuff, not giving everyone more time off. There was an implicit social choice (or a series of choices) to channel technology’s benefits into higher output and higher profits, rather than reduced worktime. As one observer noted, “for decades, faced with the choice between having Fridays off or having more things, we have collectively opted for having more”. In other words, societies (especially in the West) embraced higher consumption over shorter weeks. Whether by genuine preference or by the pressures of competition and inequality, the result was the same: the 40-hour norm held firm. In the next sections, we will unpack how exactly those productivity gains were allocated – and why many workers today feel as overworked as ever despite living in an age of unprecedented technological capability.
Productivity Soars, but Pay and Time-Off Lag Behind
By any measure, the productivity explosion of the late 20th and early 21st centuries is staggering. With computers, automation, and now AI, each worker can produce far more output per hour than in the past. As mentioned, one analysis suggests that 11 hours of work today produce as much as 40 hours produced in 1950 – implying nearly a fourfold increase in output-per-hour. Even in just the last few decades, productivity (output per worker or per hour) has continued to climb steadily. However, something peculiar happened starting around the 1970s and 1980s: that productivity growth stopped translating into commensurate gains for the average worker’s pay or free time. Economists often discuss this in terms of the “productivity–pay gap.”
Where Did the Efficiency Gains Go? The Productivity–Pay Gap
In the United States, from the end of World War II up to about 1973, productivity and worker pay rose together in tandem – as the economy grew more efficient, median wages rose, and working hours gradually declined. But since the late 1970s, a sharp divergence occurred: productivity kept rising strongly, while typical workers’ wages flattened. Between 1979 and 2019, net productivity in the U.S. economy grew roughly 60%, whereas the median worker’s hourly compensation rose only about 16%. This amounts to a 43 percentage-point gap – meaning workers did not reap the majority of the output gains their labor helped create. Instead, the benefits were absorbed by those at the top and by capital owners. In fact, during that same 1979–2019 period, the wages of the top 1% soared by 160%, corporate profits and asset prices boomed, and the share of national income going to labor (salaries) eroded while the share going to capital increased. As the Economic Policy Institute concludes, this outcome was “engineered by those with the most wealth and power,” through policies and practices that suppressed wage growth for the majority. In plainer terms: a smaller slice of the economic pie went to workers, even though their productivity made the pie much bigger.
One concrete indicator is the labor share of GDP (the portion of national income paid out as wages and salaries). In the U.S., labor’s share was fairly stable for decades after WWII, but began declining around the 1980s. It fell from roughly 57% of GDP in the post-war era to around 53% in the 2010s. Even across many advanced economies, a downward trend in labor share is observed in recent decades. That difference – a few percentage points of trillions in GDP – represents vast sums going to profits or investment returns instead of paychecks. To connect this to working hours: when workers as a class lack bargaining power to claim a portion of productivity gains either as higher pay or reduced hours, those gains don’t translate into more leisure. Companies have little incentive to cut hours (and hire more staff or pay the same for less time) unless workers can negotiate it or governments require it.
In the era when union power was strong and wages rose with productivity (the mid-20th century), it wasn’t uncommon for working hours to tick down as a form of sharing progress – for instance, through increased vacation time, earlier retirement, or fewer workdays. But with union membership and influence declining in countries like the U.S. and UK since the 1980s, fewer workers have had the collective voice to demand shorter hours. Instead, many have been striving just to keep wages from eroding. As a result, the idea of reducing the standard workweek largely fell off the policy agenda in the late 20th century in some countries. In the words of economist Juliet Schor, “the gains from productivity improvements have either been lost…or have been channeled into the owners’ pockets,” rather than allowing a four-day week or other broad cuts to working time.
Another way to look at it is to imagine if that productivity-pay gap hadn’t opened: The median American worker would be earning substantially more per hour – by one estimate, about $9 more per hour (roughly 40% higher) if pay had kept up with productivity since 1979. With that kind of wage growth, a family breadwinner might choose to work fewer hours (since each hour pays more), or a dual-income household might afford to have one parent reduce hours for better work-life balance. Instead, stagnant real wages have meant many workers must put in long hours or even multiple jobs just to maintain their living standards, effectively negating the potential leisure benefits of higher productivity.
Beyond pay, the other major way workers could benefit from productivity is through time – e.g. negotiating shorter workweeks for the same pay (since each hour is more productive than before). Historically, labor movements did exactly this (trading some potential wage gains for time gains). But in recent decades, this trade-off has rarely been offered. It’s telling that full-time work hours have barely changed in the U.S. in over 40 years, despite all the tech advances. The official full-time week remains ~40 hours. In practice, many salaried employees actually work well beyond that (often 50–60 hours for no extra pay, if classified as exempt from overtime rules), while many hourly workers would like to work fewer hours but can’t afford the pay cut.
Meanwhile, corporations have tended to use productivity improvements to increase output or cut staffing rather than shorten the workweek for all. If a company can now produce the same goods in 30 hours that used to take 40, it often means they lay off some workers or expect the same workers to produce more units in 40 hours (thus boosting profits or allowing lower prices), rather than keeping output constant and giving everyone a 30-hour week for the same pay. This dynamic ties into a classic economic effect known as Jevons’ Paradox – increased efficiency lowers the cost of production, which can increase demand and thus total output, potentially requiring just as much labor as before or more. In other words, greater efficiency often leads to more work to do (because we can now make more products or provide more services for the market). As one technologist quipped about AI: “I feel I have gotten more busy after [adopting AI tools] than before. I am now tackling more challenging projects that I would have shied away from…since I don’t have to spend time on [the old tasks], I fill that freed time with new work”. This anecdote illustrates how automation can end up intensifying work instead of lightening it, unless deliberate choices are made to curb that tendency.
Overwork Culture and “Work Worship”
Beyond economics, cultural factors help explain why people keep working long hours even when technology could enable otherwise. In many countries, especially the United States, there is a longstanding ethos that hard work is inherently virtuous. Sociologists often note that Americans “live to work” whereas in some other cultures people “work to live.” The U.S. in particular has a work culture that often “worships” long hours and busyness – wearing overwork as a badge of honor. Being perpetually busy is seen as a sign of importance or success. This mentality can make it “feel morally wrong” to leave the office early or not fill your day with tasks. As a result, even when automation makes a job more efficient, there may be pressure (internal or external) to find more work to fill the day, rather than clocking out early. In white-collar offices, for example, if AI or software automates a two-hour report generation task, the employee is usually expected to take on new projects or handle extra clients rather than enjoying a 6-hour day. Managers might wonder why you’re not “being proactive” with the spare time. This is essentially Parkinson’s Law in action: “work expands to fill the time available for its completion.” If we collectively treat 8 hours a day as the required norm, we often stretch or create work to occupy 8 hours, even if the core tasks could be done faster.
There’s also the factor of job insecurity and competition. In many professional fields, workers fear that if they don’t go above and beyond, they’ll be edged out by someone who will. So, they continue to put in long hours to show dedication. Technology hasn’t changed that dynamic – if anything, constant connectivity (smartphones, email) has made it easier for work to bleed into personal time. Many salaried employees today feel expected to respond to emails at night or handle a “quick task” on the weekend. The boundary of the 40-hour theory often turns into a 50+ hour reality. This “always on” expectation, while not always quantified in official work hours, contributes to a sense that work time is expanding, not contracting, with the advent of new tech.
Ironically, surveys have found that during an eight-hour office day, actual productive work might only occupy a few hours – one study famously found office workers have as little as 3 hours of real focus in a day, with the rest spent on non-work browsing, chatting, and breaks. This suggests that in many cases, we could achieve the same output in fewer hours, but we stick to the conventional schedule because it’s mandated or simply habit. As one commentator put it, we often fill eight hours **“just because that’s how long a car company decided people should work a hundred years ago.”**
All these cultural and organizational norms create inertia that perpetuates the 40-hour status quo. Even when individuals personally desire more free time, they may conform to the grind because that’s “how it’s done” or out of economic necessity. It’s telling that when the COVID-19 pandemic forced a reevaluation of work patterns (through remote work and flexible hours), many people discovered the benefits of having more control over their time – yet, as things normalize, companies are largely reverting to the same old hour expectations. Deeply ingrained beliefs about work will take concerted effort to shift.
Who Works the Longest? The U.S. and Other Countries Compared
While the 40-ish hour workweek remains a global benchmark, there are important differences across countries. Some nations have managed to shorten the average workweek more than others, whether through policy, collective bargaining, or culture. Let’s compare how the United States stacks up with the UK, Germany, Japan, South Korea, and China in terms of working hours and approach – and crucially, why those differences exist. The contrast will highlight that the persistence of long hours is not inevitable; it is shaped by choices and values. It will also underscore that criticizing long work hours is not about singling out any one country (this report avoids any anti-country bias, including toward China). Every society faces the challenge of balancing productivity and leisure, and each has taken a different path.
The United States: Rich Economy, Long Hours, Little Vacation
The United States famously has a work culture that prizes long hours and hustle. The average full-time American worker puts in around 1,750–1,800 hours per year. This works out to roughly 34–36 hours per week on average when part-timers are included, or about 40 hours for a full-time worker (since many Americans don’t use all their vacation days). An average U.S. worker’s yearly hours (≈1,800) is about 400 hours more – roughly 10 extra weeks – than a typical worker in Germany. Put differently, an American putting in 40 hours a week year-round works nearly 10 weeks longer per year than a German who works closer to 35 hours weekly with ample holidays. The U.S. also outworks other Western peers: it’s about 250 more hours per year than the UK (UK averages ~1,524 hours) and 250–300 more than France (≈1,500). Even compared to Japan, which had a reputation for salarymen never leaving the office, Americans are slightly higher; Japan’s average is around 1,611 hours/year now, reflecting some reduction in recent years.
Why do Americans work so much? One reason is policy (or lack thereof). The U.S. is the only advanced economy without a statutory right to paid vacation – many workers get only 10 days off a year, and some get none. There is also no limit on maximum weekly hours except the overtime pay rule after 40 hours (which doesn’t apply to many salaried jobs). In contrast, the European Union’s Working Time Directive mandates at least 4 weeks of paid leave for all workers and generally limits the workweek to 48 hours (though the UK had an opt-out for individuals). Culturally, as discussed, Americans also tend to tie their identity to work and may have fewer social safety nets, making them less inclined to reduce hours for fear of losing income or job security.
The U.S. also has relatively low unionization in the private sector today (under 7%), meaning fewer workers collectively bargaining for reduced hours or flexible schedules. Back when unions were stronger, they often negotiated shorter workweeks or extra holidays (the concept of the weekend itself was a union-driven win). Today’s labor negotiations in the U.S. more often focus on wages and healthcare than cutting hours. One exception has been some tech companies and startups experimenting with 4-day weeks, but these are still rare cases, not the norm.
Western Europe: Shorter Hours and “Work to Live”
Many Western European countries have taken a different route – leveraging productivity gains into more leisure time. Nowhere is this more evident than Germany, Europe’s largest economy, which has one of the shortest average workyears in the world. The average German works around 1,350 hours per year, which is roughly 26 hours per week on average (accounting for many part-timers). Full-time schedules in Germany are often 35–37 hours, with 6+ weeks of paid vacation common. Germany’s workweek was once similar to America’s – in 1870, a German full-timer’s hours were huge (likely 60+ hours). But over time, especially from the 1950s through 1990s, German unions and employers struck deals to steadily reduce working hours as productivity rose. In fact, between 1870 and 2010, the average weekly hours in Germany for a full-time worker fell by almost 40%. Germany’s powerful unions (e.g. IG Metall) in some industries achieved agreements for a 35-hour standard week as early as the 1980s. Even recently, there have been union pushes for options to work 28-hour weeks for certain periods to improve work-life balance (in exchange for proportionately less pay, in those cases).
The ethos in countries like Germany, the Netherlands ( ~1,430 hours/year ), and Scandinavian nations (Norway ~1,420; Denmark ~1,400) tends to be more “work to live”. Leisure, family time, and rest are highly valued, and there is an assumption that high productivity per hour is preferable to sheer quantity of hours. Indeed, these countries consistently rank among the most productive and happiest in the world while working substantially fewer hours than Americans. For instance, German workers’ productivity per hour is on par with or higher than Americans’, suggesting that cutting out those extra 400 hours per year did not hurt output – it just gave Germans more life outside work.
It’s noteworthy that European governments and social policies support shorter hours as well. Beyond vacation mandates, there are often strong overtime regulations. France famously legislated a 35-hour workweek in 2000 (though with many exceptions and loopholes in practice). While the French law didn’t mean everyone works 35 hours (many still do 40 with overtime or exceptions), it did help lower the national average to about 1,500 hours/year, and symbolically it affirmed the goal of sharing work and freeing time. France also enacted a “right to disconnect” law recently, aiming to protect employees from after-hours email demands.
The United Kingdom falls somewhere between the U.S. and continental Europe. The UK average is about 1,520 hours/year – higher than Germany/France but lower than the U.S. British full-time workers typically have around 37.5 hour weeks and at least 4–5 weeks holiday by law. Culturally, UK workplaces historically resembled the U.S. in overtime expectations, but there’s growing interest in flexibility. In 2022–2023, UK companies were prominent in four-day week trials, with 73 companies and 3,300 employees piloting a 32-hour week for 6 months. The results were overwhelmingly positive: productivity stayed the same or improved in nearly half of companies, and over 90% of employees wanted to continue with the four-day schedule. At the trial’s end, 86% of companies said they were likely to keep the 4-day week going. This shows a potential shift even in traditionally work-heavy industries, provided management is open to rethinking entrenched norms.
East Asia: Work Ethic Extreme and the Beginning of Backlash
Moving to East Asia, work hours have historically been very long – partly due to the post-war economic boom cultures that emphasized rapid growth through hard work. However, we see some changes underway.
Japan became infamous for its salaryman culture of extremely long hours, giving rise to the term “karōshi” (death by overwork). In the 1980s, it was common for Japanese office workers to stay at work late into the evening, not take all their leave, and even go drinking with bosses after work – leaving scant time for family or rest. Average annual hours in Japan were well above 2,000 at their peak. Over time, recognizing the social toll (low birth rates, mental health crises, literal cases of people working themselves to death), Japan has tried to curb excesses. By 2019, Japan’s average was down to around 1,740 hours per year, roughly 33.5 hours weekly on average (still including part-timers, but full-time salaried staff often did more). In 2018, the Japanese government passed the Work Style Reform Act which, for the first time, capped overtime for most workers at 45 hours per month (360 hours per year) in normal periods, with an absolute max of 100 hours in busy months. It also compelled employers to ensure workers take at least 5 days of their paid leave each year (since many weren’t using their vacation). These measures aimed squarely at reducing the extreme overwork culture that led to karōshi cases. While enforcement is a challenge and old habits die hard, there have been results: since the reforms, many Japanese companies have cut down extreme overtime, and initiatives like “Premium Fridays” (encouraging workers to leave early one Friday a month) were introduced. The issue is far from solved – it’s not rare for Japanese employees to still do 50-60 hour weeks in practice – but the country has at least acknowledged that shorter hours are necessary for quality of life. The steady decline from ~2,100 yearly hours in 1990 to ~1,700 now shows progress.
South Korea has been another case of intense work ethic. In the 1960s–80s during Korea’s rapid industrialization, extremely long working weeks were common – often 6 days a week, 10-12 hours a day. Even into the 2000s, South Korea had among the highest annual work hours in the world. As of 2017, the average was about 2,063 hours/year, far above any Western country. A culture of presenteeism (staying late until the boss leaves) and compulsory after-hours team dinners was ingrained. This, combined with high academic pressure on youth and other stressors, has contributed to low fertility rates and burnout in Korea. In response, the Korean government has made moves to change course. In 2018, South Korea legislated a cut to its maximum working hours from 68 hours per week down to 52 hours (40 normal + 12 overtime). This law was meant to force employers to hire more staff or increase productivity rather than relying on endless overtime, and to allow workers more personal time. Since then, South Korea’s average working hours dropped significantly – by 2021 the annual average fell to around 1,900 hours, and by some accounts in 2022 it was nearing the high 1,800s. While still higher than the U.S., it’s a notable improvement. Interestingly, in 2023 there was debate in South Korea about allowing more flexibility in hours: the government proposed letting companies calculate overtime on a monthly basis, which could have enabled weeks up to 69 hours during busy periods (balanced by time off later). This proposal triggered a massive backlash, especially among younger Koreans who don’t want to return to the old overwork culture. The idea was quickly shelved after public protests and the realization that longer hours would likely worsen the low birth rate and quality of life issues. Researchers have, in fact, argued that to raise South Korea’s record-low birth rate (0.7), a further shortening of the standard workweek to 35 hours may be necessary. The South Korean example shows a society at a crossroads – recognizing that work-life balance is crucial for the nation’s future, yet facing pressure from businesses to keep hours long.
Now, China presents a different but equally instructive scenario. As a rapidly developing economy, China has had very high average working hours, especially in urban industries. The ILO data indicated China’s average was above 2,100 hours/year (around 44+ hours per week) – on par with countries like India and far above Western norms. Throughout the boom of the 1990s–2000s, many Chinese factories operated on demanding schedules, and in the 2010s the tech sector became known for the “996” culture: working 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., 6 days a week. That’s 72 hours per week, nearly double a standard 40-hour week. Some tech entrepreneurs (like Alibaba’s Jack Ma) initially praised 996 as a competitive advantage born from China’s hunger for success. However, this extreme has led to increasing discontent among workers. High-profile incidents – young employees collapsing or even dying due to overwork – fueled a growing backlash. By 2019, Chinese tech workers were protesting on forums (the “996.ICU” movement, implying if you work 996 you might end up in an ICU). A broader “tang ping” (躺平 or “lying flat”) movement emerged in 2021, wherein many young Chinese openly rejected the rat-race of constant overwork and high pressure. Tang ping advocates doing just the bare minimum to get by, similar to the Western idea of “quiet quitting,” as a form of personal resistance to burnout culture. This was a remarkable cultural shift in a society known for diligence – essentially, the younger generation signaling that endless hard work with little life to show for it is not worth it.
In response to public concern, the Chinese government and courts have also taken action. In August 2021, China’s Supreme People’s Court officially ruled that the 996 schedule is illegal under existing labor laws. China’s labor law actually stipulates a standard workweek of 8 hours per day, 44 hours per week (with overtime paid beyond that), and no more than 36 hours of overtime per month. The court issued guidance reinforcing that these limits must be respected, and cited real cases – for example, a courier who was fired for refusing excessive overtime had his dismissal overturned and was compensated, as the court deemed the company’s 996 requirement unlawful. This was significant: it sent a signal to employers that “996” as a routine expectation is against the law. Following this, some major Chinese tech firms made changes – ByteDance (TikTok’s parent) announced in mid-2021 that it was ending its mandatory weekend overtime policy, and other companies like Kuaishou did similar. The government’s broader crackdown on big tech also implicitly pushed companies to improve worker conditions.
It’s worth noting that China’s situation is nuanced: the long hours in developing countries are often partly due to economic necessity – when wages are lower, people may work longer to earn more. The International Labour Organization noted that in many developing nations, *“workers are putting in these long hours because wages are low and they’re trying to make ends meet.”* This holds true in China’s manufacturing sector and gig economy, where a migrant worker might choose to work 60 hours to send money home. However, as China becomes wealthier and its workforce more educated, expectations are gradually shifting toward a better work-life balance – especially among the middle class. The government itself, aiming for sustainable growth and social stability, has incentives to prevent extreme overwork from causing public health crises or discontent.
In summary, China, South Korea, and Japan have all historically had much longer working hours than Western countries, but each is now grappling with the consequences and beginning to course-correct (to varying degrees). China is doing so through legal enforcement of existing hour limits and social campaigns against overwork, Japan through legal caps and encouraging companies to embrace efficiency over hours, and South Korea through legislative reduction and a generational pushback against old norms. None of these countries is anti-work by any stretch – the work ethic remains strong – but there is a growing realization that endless hours do not equal endless productivity, and that workers’ well-being and a healthy society require reasonable limits.
To put the numbers in perspective, here’s a quick snapshot of average annual working hours (pre-pandemic late 2010s data) in our comparison countries, which underscores the range:
- Germany: ~1,350 hours per worker per year (one of the lowest in the world). Equivalent to ~26 hours/week on average (with many working a 35-hour full-time week + generous leave).
- United Kingdom: ~1,520 hours per year, or ~30 hours/week on average (many full-timers at ~37 hours/week, but ample part-time workers and holidays bring the average down).
- Japan: ~1,610 hours per year, ~31 hours/week average (full-time core maybe ~40-45 hours with overtime, offset by part-timers).
- United States: ~1,750-1,800 hours per year, ~34-36 hours/week on average (full-time ~40+ with minimal vacation).
- South Korea: ~1,870 hours per year (as of mid-2020s after reforms), ~36 hours/week on average, down from over 2,200 (~42+ hours/week) in early 2000s.
- China: ~2,100+ hours per year, which is ~40+ hours/week average. Officially a 40-hour standard week, but many do overtime; the average indicates a significant portion of workers put in 50-60 hour weeks.
It’s evident that Americans work more hours than virtually any other high-income nation, rivaled only by some newly industrialized Asian economies. Europeans generally work substantially less. And countries like China and India currently top the charts for longest hours (though as noted, that’s partly a development stage phenomenon). Crucially, the countries with shortest hours (Europe) are no less productive or prosperous – in fact, many are more productive per hour and enjoy higher quality of life. This undercuts the notion that long hours are necessary for economic success; rather, it’s about how societies choose to deploy their productive capacity.
The Human Cost of Overwork and the Case for Shorter Hours
Even as we understand the historical and economic reasons behind the 40-hour (or longer) workweek’s persistence, it’s important to highlight what’s at stake for workers. Long working hours carry well-documented human costs: stress, burnout, diminished health, and strain on family life. Studies have linked working more than about 48 hours per week to significantly higher risks of heart disease, anxiety/depression, and even reduced life expectancy. The ILO reported that globally, more than one-third of all workers are still working over 48 hours a week, calling it a “serious concern” since excessive work hours are associated with more injuries, illness, and work-family conflict. In other words, millions are overworked. The COVID-19 pandemic further exposed this as burnout rates spiked among many professions.
Conversely, reducing work hours can have numerous benefits – not just for employees, but for employers and society at large. Trials of shorter workweeks (without pay cuts) have yielded strikingly positive outcomes. We’ve already noted the UK’s large pilot where companies saw productivity hold steady or improve on a four-day (32-hour) week. To give another example, Iceland conducted a multi-year experiment between 2015 and 2019 with workers in various public-sector jobs cutting their hours (to ~35 per week) with no pay reduction. The results were so successful – productivity remained equal or got better, and worker well-being improved dramatically – that over 85% of Iceland’s workforce has now gained the right to shorter hours or flexible schedules. Icelandic unions renegotiated contracts to lock in those hour reductions permanently after seeing that services and output did not suffer.
Even in overwork-plagued Japan, a corporate trial made headlines: Microsoft Japan tested a 4-day workweek in 2019 (giving Fridays off) and reported that productivity jumped by 40% during the trial. Employees were not only happier (with more time to rest and upskill), but also worked more efficiently – cutting down on unnecessary meetings and idle time. Likewise, a New Zealand company trial and numerous smaller firm experiments have often found total output holds steady with one less day, because workers exert themselves a bit more in the short week and are healthier and more focused (less prone to errors or procrastination from fatigue).
From an economic perspective, there’s also the argument that shorter hours could help spread employment. If each person works a bit less, there can be more positions to go around, potentially reducing unemployment or underemployment. This was in fact a rationale during the Great Depression (better to have two people work 20 hours than one person 40 and one zero). In modern times with automation threatening certain jobs, some experts like Juliet Schor and politicians like Bernie Sanders suggest work-hour reduction as a way to mitigate job loss and ensure the gains of AI are shared. Sanders has argued, for instance, that if AI boosts a worker’s productivity, the worker should keep their job at fewer hours for the same pay, rather than being laid off – “Let’s use technology to benefit workers…You don’t have to work 40 hours a week anymore”. In 2023, Sanders introduced a bill in the U.S. Senate for a 32-hour workweek standard (overtime after 32 hours) to push this idea, saying that AI’s productivity gains “should be used to give workers more time with their family and friends”. While it’s a long shot politically, the proposal indicates the growing mainstream conversation around work time reduction.
Employers, too, are coming around to the benefits of not overworking staff. Chronic overwork leads to high turnover, higher healthcare costs, and “presenteeism” (being at work but not mentally present or productive). In Japan, some firms started turning off lights in the office at 6pm to force employees to go home, because they realized endless overtime was counterproductive. In the U.S. and Europe, forward-thinking companies tout their 4-day week or 6-hour day policies as a way to attract talent and boost morale. For example, in Spain a national program is funding a small experiment for companies to shift to a 32-hour week, anticipating improved worker health and even environmental benefits (less commuting = lower emissions). The early data from these trials consistently show happier workers (lower stress, burnout, and conflict) and either neutral or positive impacts on productivity. When employees have more balanced lives, they often bring more energy and creativity to the job.
To illustrate: in the big UK trial, nearly half of companies observed improved productivity, and employees rated their experience 9.1 out of 10 in favor of continuing the four-day week. Measures of stress and burnout fell, and employees reported better time management (for instance, cutting pointless meetings). On the employer side, lower staff turnover and fewer sick days were noted, saving costs. Essentially, working smarter, not longer proved beneficial – echoing the lesson Henry Ford learned a century ago on the factory floor.
Not Anti-Work, But Pro-Choice and Balance
Advocating for shorter workweeks given our productivity levels is not about being “anti-work” or lazy; it’s about recalibrating the balance between labor and leisure in a way that reflects modern capabilities and human needs. Countries like China, which is sometimes stereotyped as “work-obsessed,” are themselves recognizing this. As China transitions to a higher-income economy, there is increasing emphasis on quality of growth and “common prosperity” – which includes ensuring people have decent rest and family time. It’s notable that Chinese state media at one point criticized 996 as unhealthy and incompatible with the pursuit of a good life for the people. The message is that development should ultimately make life better, not just make GDP bigger. And making life better will entail giving workers a fair share of the fruits of growth in the form of either higher income, more free time, or ideally both.
We should also dispel the notion that cutting hours is a zero-sum hit to the economy. When workers have more free time (especially if their income is not cut), they can engage in other productive activities: caring for family, volunteering, education, or even just consuming entertainment, all of which circulate back into the economy. There is also an argument to be made that reducing overwork could stimulate hiring – if each person works a bit less, an employer might hire an extra person, thus reducing unemployment and distributing work. France’s 35-hour week law in 2000 was partly intended to create jobs by work-sharing, and while its success was debated, some analyses credit it with lowering unemployment slightly in the early years.
Reclaiming Our Time in the Age of Automation
It is often said that technology will set us free, but as we have seen, this is not automatic. The persistence of the 40-hour workweek (and in many cases, far longer weeks) in an age of astounding productivity growth is a result of deliberate policy choices, power dynamics, and cultural norms – not technological necessity. Automation has indeed made it possible to produce the same output in a fraction of the time; the question is who benefits from that efficiency. In the late 20th century, the benefits went disproportionately to capital owners and top earners, while average workers were left with stagnating wages and still-full workweeks. The surplus was not converted into universal leisure; it was converted into higher corporate profits, cheaper consumer goods, and, yes, more overall work being done as economies expanded.
Correcting this course is not a simple task, but the examples from around the world offer hope and guidance. Countries like Germany show that it’s possible to be an economic powerhouse and afford workers ample time off. Countries like Japan and South Korea show that even deeply entrenched overwork cultures can begin to change when the negative consequences become untenable – and that younger generations will demand change if the old ways don’t suit them. China’s stance against 996 and the rise of the “lying flat” ethos among its youth demonstrate that the desire for a balanced life is universal, not bounded by East or West. It also illustrates that government policy can enforce boundaries on work hours for the collective good, even in highly competitive economies.
Ultimately, achieving a shorter workweek in practice will likely require a combination of bottom-up and top-down efforts. Bottom-up, we see employees experimenting with “quiet quitting” – essentially just working their set hours and not over-delivering unpaid labor – as a way to claw back time. We see a renewed interest in unionizing in some industries, with working hours and conditions being part of the demands (for instance, some recent union contracts in the tech and game development sectors include clauses to address excessive overtime). Top-down, we might need legislation (like Sanders’ proposed overtime threshold at 32 hours, or EU-style mandates on leave) and government incentives for companies to pilot new models. Even corporate leaders themselves can drive change – the CEO of Kickstarter, for example, implemented a 4-day week for his company after seeing the data from trials, framing it as staying competitive in attracting talent and preventing burnout.
It’s also worth noting that work time reduction doesn’t have to be one-size-fits-all. Some people genuinely love their work and may want to put in 50 hours – that’s fine, as long as it’s their choice and they’re compensated. The key is making sure those who would prefer a bit less work aren’t forced into long hours due to economic insecurity or norms. Flexible arrangements (like optionally four-day weeks, or even annualized hours systems where one can take more time off between intense periods) could provide balance. In many countries, especially in Europe, there is a trend of people switching to “80% jobs” (e.g. working four days a week for 80% pay) by choice – often to care for children or pursue other interests. When living standards and social support are high, individuals feel more empowered to trade some income for time.
As we stand in 2025, on the cusp of even more automation from AI, we have a new opportunity to renegotiate the social contract of work. The dystopian outcome would be one where AI makes a few owners fabulously rich, many workers redundant, and the remaining workers pushed to maintain 40+ hour schedules doing the tasks AI can’t do – essentially splitting society between overworked and underemployed. The utopian outcome would use AI’s productivity gains to liberate everyone’s time: reducing the workweek, improving wages (so fewer hours are needed to earn a living), and allowing people to engage in caregiving, creativity, community, or whatever they value in life outside paid labor. The difference between those futures is a matter of policy and collective action, not technology. As one participant in a four-day week trial said, “we’re not chilling so we can get more done – we’re getting more done so that we can chill.”. In a world of plenty, that seems a fair deal.
The 40-hour workweek persists not because it’s inevitable or optimal, but because of how we as a society have thus far chosen to allocate the fruits of progress. The experience of the last century – from the bloodshed for the 8-hour day to the boardroom experiments with the 4-day week – teaches us that free time is a right that must be claimed; it won’t simply fall from the sky with the next app or machine. But it is within reach. The fact that some countries have average workweeks of 30 hours while others push 50, despite similar technology, shows that it’s possible to work less and not only maintain but even improve well-being and productivity. The question “Why are we still working 40 hours?” can be flipped into “How can we work less?” – and the answers are being forged right now in forward-looking companies, trials, and movements around the world.
Perhaps, if we make the right choices, the next generation will finally see some of Keynes’ vision come true and thank us for valuing quality of life as much as quantity of output. After all, the goal of all this technological advancement is not to keep us chained to our desks, but to give us richer lives. It’s time to reclaim the promise of automation – not as a threat to jobs, but as a pathway to more freedom. The 40-hour trap can be sprung open, if we want it to be.