All work and no play

We put in longer hours than other Europeans, says Madeleine Bunting. Marriages break down, people break down, but we meekly accept it

ack in the late Sixties, thinkers on both sides of the Atlantic were troubled by problems which seem bizarre from the vantage point of 2004: they were worried that the leisure age which they believed was fast approaching would leave people with too much time on their hands. They were worried that the work ethic was losing its grip on a new rebellious generation and they pondered how they would motivate people to work.

They needn't have worried. The muchpredicted 'leisure age' promised by technology has not materialised. In fact, quite the reverse: people are working harder than ever. There is less leisure time and, most bizarre of all, the very workers with the greatest bargaining power are choosing to work the hardest. The problem is the burn out of white-collar Britain.

For over a century, the average number of hours spent working over a lifetime slowly declined in Britain. The historian James Arrowsmith has calculated that in 1856 our forebears put in 124,000 hours over a 40year working life and, by 1981, it was 69,000. There it remained for a decade, but in the early Nineties it began to increase again. On average a full-time British worker now puts in 80,224 hours over their working life, and that figure rises to 92,000 for those on a 50-hour week, which is common among the self-employed, the skilled, professional and managerial workers. Many are working the kind of hours that would have been familiar to a Victorian factory worker. The only difference is that now it's the bosses who are more likely to be putting in the hours than those on the shop floor.

Britain has followed a US model of all work, no play, in contrast to continental Europe. Full-time workers in Britain now work the longest hours in Europe — an average of 43.6 hours per week — compared with an EU average of 40.3. Even more marked is the difference in holidays between Britain and continental Europe; the UK has, on average, 28 days a year, well behind France on 47, Italy on 44 and Germany on 41. Add the difference in weekly hours and holidays and it amounts to the British working almost eight weeks a year more than their European counterparts.

Since 1998 and the implementation of the ineffectual Working Time Regulations (Britain is now the only country in the EU still to have an opt-out from its 48-hour week), British workers have added another three-quarters of an hour to their weekly timesheet. The number working in excess of 48 hours a week has more than doubled from 10 per cent to 26 per cent. Between 2000 and 2002, those working over 60 hours a week leapt by a third. The majority of these are in their thirties — a fifth of them are working more than 60 hours a week — which is exactly the time in their lives when their family responsibilities are likely to be the most onerous.

Overwork used to be almost exclusively a male problem. No longer. Since 1992, the number of women working more than 48 hours a week has increased by 52 per cent and the proportion working over 60 hours has more than doubled from 6 per cent to 13 per cent — one in eight of the female workforce.

Average weekly hours is only one part of the story. Fewer than half of workers take all their holiday; 49 per cent of women take all their holiday but only 39 per cent of men. Lunch hours are shrinking; the average now lasts 27 minutes. Even when you've got home, the problems of the office are likely to follow you there; the Mental Health Foundation calculates that we spend 11 hours of our free time each week thinking about work. Given all that, it's hardly surprising that over a third of British workers say they are so exhausted at the end of a day in the office that they can do nothing but slump on the sofa. To cap it all, the hard work doesn't even pay off; despite France's implementation of a 35-hour working week, its productivity has continued comfortably to surpass that of Britain.

The French tradition of the state regulating working hours has stimulated a more productive use of labour.

Overwork is an Anglo-American disease which has now spread to Australia and New Zealand; a model of turbo-capitalism which purloins more and more of people's resources of time and energy at the cost of their health and their relationships. Overwork is a major source of marital discord and a cause of a decline in friendships. The family values so dear to the Right are being undermined by the capitalist work ethic.

Half a million people report stress levels at work that are making them ill. By a curious irony of Thatcher's triumph over the unions, more days now are lost to workrelated stress and depression than to industrial action. We no longer down tools and walk out; we take a 'duvet day' and never make it into work at all.

And yet in spite of the stress, long hours at work give life meaning to some highfliers. The cleverest corporations are those that have developed cultures to flatter the individual's need for affirmation and recognition. In an era of social fragmentation when developing your sense of identity is far from uncomplicated, work can quickly become the niche in which you pursue your sense of self. Corporations such as Microsoft encourage this with mentoring programmes for personal and professional development, and the two become inextricably intertwined. The more you invest in work, the more work becomes the organising principle of your life — where you make your friends, meet your partner, have your private health insurance; it organises your voluntary work, your charitable donations and your dry cleaning.

The problem with this redefinition of the work contract is, of course, that no company now offers any security along with its package of benefits. All work is a series of short-term contracts — even in a long-term job — and the insecurity thus generated helps fuel the emotional and mental investment now routinely required in a job. Good enough isn't good enough; nothing less than giving your all is what most employers demand. The result is a kind of passionate engagement in work which to an older generation would sound mighty odd; one manager of a major UK brand told me that she had 'fallen in love with the brand'. It's a measure of this redefinition of our relationship to work that Magnet, the furniture retailer, advertises an office that can be built in the corner of your bedroom.

As relationships become increasingly precarious and our faith in collective institutions such as political parties and Churches declines, it seems we have turned to work to fill the vacuum. We look to work to provide a sense of purpose and a connection to society. It's a trend which has been reinforced by a New Labour government keen to promote the work ethic as the essential basis for citizenship.

Work/life balance is an issue which sits at the intersection of politics and philosophy: what is the good life, and how can political decisions promote its availability? In an insecure, anxious age, what gets lost is the value of leisure and relationships. For centuries, leisure was closely allied to status; the measure of a gentleman in 18th-century England was that he had very little to do other than pursue his hobbies. Aristotle argued that we are at our most human when we are pursuing our leisure, following our love of an activity for its sheer enjoyment. My grandfather had a fulfilling job at the BBC, yet even at the height of his career he usually had time to play the piano for an hour before dinner. Of my generation I'm hard pressed to think of any contemporary still with a hobby, let alone one pursued every day. What the overworked cut out, according to research by the Mental Health Foundation, are the three things most likely to ensure your resilience through life's ups and downs: friends, physical exercise and leisure interests.

What gets me is how many of the overworked know all this, yet seem unable to do anything about it. Interestingly, they don't think there is much politicians can do about it either, despite the increasing interest of both Left and Right — before the next election — to develop policies to assuage this politics of anxiety. Instead, the overworked live lives of helpless frustration and dream consoling myths such as the day when they downshift to that cottage in the country, that villa in Tuscany. They watch Monty Don in his rural idyll and dream — until it's Monday morning and they're back to work.

Madeleine Bunting's Willing Slaves: How the Overwork Culture is Ruling Our Lives is published by HarperCollins on 21 June. A debate chaired by Jenni Murray with Alan Milburn, Madeleine Bunting and Susie Orbach, 'Why we need an alternative to the overwork culture', will be held at the RSA, John Adam Street, London WC2 on 22 June. Tickets and information from 08708 906002.