My current cultural comfort food is The Gilded Age, Julian Fellowes’ deeply silly Manhattan toffs-in-bustles drama, in which one storyline (summarily dealt with due to lack of taffeta-rustling opportunities, I suspect) features a tycoon’s downtrodden steelworkers going on strike for “888”: eight hours each of work, sleep and recreation.
That wasn’t a revolutionary demand in the 1880s. The slogan, coined by the utopian social reformer Robert Owen, dates from 1817 (his New Lanark mill workers still did 10.5-hour days, though). Even then, it wasn’t unprecedented: apparently, a 16th-century Spanish ordinance limited New World construction workers to eight-hour days.
So what would Owen or Philip II of Spain think of “996”? That’s working 9am to 9pm, six days a week – 72 hours of grind. Originating in the Chinese tech industry, 996 was described as a “blessing” by the e-commerce behemoth Alibaba’s founder, Jack Ma. Chinese workers disagreed, mobilising against it online, and launching – and winning – court cases against employers.
Now 996 is back (although it probably never went away; in 2022, the FT reported discontent among UK TikTok employees at expectations of 12-hour days). In Silicon Valley, “grinding ‘996’ is the way to get ahead”, according to the New York Times. Wired found job listings explicitly stating absurdly long hours are expected (and applicants shouldn’t apply unless “excited” by that) and recruiters being instructed that a willingness to work 72-hour weeks was non-negotiable. The San Francisco Standard proclaimed: “Grindcore culture is back and grindier than ever”, with one founder summarising the vibe as: “No drinking, no drugs, 996, lift heavy, run far, marry early, track sleep, eat steak and eggs.” Another posted on X: “We routinely are at the office through the weekend and do some of our best work late into the night.” Sign me up!
I don’t get it. Hadn’t we all fallen out of love with hustle culture? We’ve witnessed the overwhelming success of four-day week initiatives with almost all trial participants electing to continue. We’ve looked at other countries and realised more enlightened approaches to reconciling family, community, life and work don’t necessarily come at a productivity cost, and make for happier, healthier citizens. The average working week in the Netherlands is 32.1 hours, but the OECD’s economic survey says it has been “outperforming peers” economically; it ranks fifth in the newest World Happiness Report (the US is 24th).
I keep reading, too, about the new work-agnosticism, especially among the young. Respondents to Deloitte’s 2024 Gen-Z and Millennial survey ranked work-life balance as the most important factor in choosing an employer (and “the most admired trait among their peers”). Randstad’s workmonitor 2025 surveyed 26,000 people in 35 countries and also concluded work-life balance was the top motivator, coming ahead of pay for the first time.
So what fresh, fire emoji, locked-in hell is this? I have two theories. Maybe it’s the last gasp of a dying philosophy; the “extinction burst”, if you will, of grindcore? Alternatively, research published this year indicates what we all suspected: overwork makes your brain go funny. “Overworked individuals exhibited significant changes in brain regions associated with executive function and emotional regulation,” the researchers concluded, and looking at some of Silicon Valley’s prominent alumni, that tracks. Surely only people with “structural brain changes … in regions linked to cognition and emotion” – as the study puts it – could think this work culture is healthy or productive?
Tech bros love novelty, so maybe we can convince their addled brains that their inhumane working practices are old hat with audacious alternatives. But what? My own work equation (equal parts scrolling, blank staring, hen husbandry and hot drinks) is too complex – and unsuccessful – to catch on. I’m tempted to suggest 0/0/0, but that requires a tireless 24/7/365 commitment to overthrowing capitalism. The majority of people I asked actually dream of working three-day weeks (not far off the economist John Maynard Keynes’ quixotic 15 hours), but I’m not sure that’s buzzy enough. How about a 1:12 ratio of Teams meetings to tea breaks? Or one day in the office, six days screaming into the void (make SIV the new WFH)? An hour’s work, an hour questioning your life choices, then a lifetime hiding in the woods? I reckon with a catchy name and a rumour it makes you immortal, any of these could be Silicon Valley’s next big thing.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
