When the British band Dire Straits released its single ‘Money for Nothing’ in 1985, it became both an instant hit and a notorious pop cultural reference point for two reasons: one was its pioneering use of CGI animation in the accompanying music video when MTV was new, the other its use of homophobic language (or, depending on the angle, its ascription to blue collar workers in a song made both by and for people with university degrees). Indeed, the two aspects were interconnected, as both lyrics and video featured a deliveryman looking at musicians on TV screens (including the Dire Straits) while doing heavy lifting, a scene songwriter Mark Knopfler had incidentally witnessed. Stereotyped with overalls, trucker cap and cigar, the character observes, ‘That ain’t workin’, that’s the way you do it/Money for nothin’ and chicks for free’. Packed in several layers of intertextual, ironic references, the song is very much about two fundamental questions, namely what qualifies as work and who gets to define it. It also illustrates the significance of practices in tackling that question: carrying, lifting, installing on the one hand, and guitar-playing, singing, posing for the camera on the other. How can both possibly be the same thing: work?Footnote 1
Although with a little more time and space at his disposal than a pop song offers, the head of the venerable Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt, Axel Honneth, failed to offer any easy answer to this question when he was recently quizzed by fellow critical theorist Rahel Jaeggi in a dialogue-cum-book promotion. Apparently exasperated by Honneth’s refusal to offer a workable definition of work, Jaeggi insisted: ‘But can you not at least identify a core or range of activities of which no community would say this is not work?’ Yet, a reticent Honneth was not to be dragged down the road of double negation and instead chose to point to the contingencies any firm definition would entail. While it was ‘unimaginable’ not to regard child-raising, cooking and other forms of care work as work, ‘there are many activities, of which we are unsure, whether they are a part of this core or not. . . . One can play in private stock exchanges, but, for the love of God, this is not something we should consider social labor nor something we should create demand for.’Footnote 2
Jaeggi’s frustration with these evasive manoeuvres illustrates that the dividing line between work and non-work is not only of academic interest or a subject for artistic pastimes but also a fundamental principle along which most (and definitely all contemporary European) societies are structured. If work, as Bénédicte Zimmermann has put it in Maussian terms, is ‘a total social fact’, the stakes for what non-work means are raised.Footnote 3 The waged work we are doing, or the lack of it, configures individual lives – career trajectories and income levels, economic and social status, contributions and access to welfare state provisions, identity construction, not least sovereignty over one’s timeFootnote 4 – while underpinning the viability of the collective and public institutions we are a part of, whether as economic agents or citizens,Footnote 5 through the production of both wealth and inequality. Moreover, it is via the dualism of work and non-work that we navigate the complexities of social and economic (inter)action and invest activities with meaning and value or use them to create our social status. Yet the two sides are conceptually strongly imbalanced, as is immediately evident in the latter being defined in opposition to the former. Efforts at systematisation regularly offer whole arrays of different types of work – e.g. reciprocal/tributary/commodified, free/unfree, paid/unpaid, employed/self-employed, formal/informal, private/public, skilled/semi-skilled/unskilled, honest/dishonest, etc.Footnote 6 – while non-work has few if any sub-categories but is specified through descriptives: activities such as leisure, caring and non-work obligations, or unemployment and affluence in terms of economic status.Footnote 7
For all its elaboration, ‘work’ itself has remained an elusive concept that runs the danger of being either too specific or too broad, viz. Jaeggi’s misgivings. To account for rather than to avoid this challenge, Swedish sociologist J.C. Karlsson, some forty years earlier, made the case for a dynamic definition to trace both historical expansion and narrowing of what constitutes ‘work’.Footnote 8 As an example of the latter, efforts to distinguish between ‘work’ and ‘labour’ according to whether or not the former has been commodified by creating exchange valueFootnote 9 clearly stand out. While heuristically helpful to the synchronic analysis of (capitalist) production as well as to the diachronic study of how ‘labour’ has come to dominate understandings of ‘work’,Footnote 10 the difference has proven of limited value in capturing concrete, empirical constellations, not least historical protagonists’ own perceptions of what they were doing. Consequently, historians such as Jan Lucassen have lately opted for wide, open understandings of work that cover ‘all human pursuits apart from free time or leisure’ (a difference that, incidentally, is not elaborated).Footnote 11 Varying etymologies add more complexity, as the translated titles of Lucassen’s own book illustrate.Footnote 12 While the ‘labourification’Footnote 13 of ‘work’ in the course of European industrialisation has muted the differences between, among others, avl, Arbeit, lavoro, praca, travail, werk or work, older, often distinct connotations continue to lurk below the surface.Footnote 14
Things are further complicated by recent studies showing how the semantic fields circumscribed by ‘work’ and ‘non-work’ respectively have an uncanny knack for blurring boundaries and, not least in light of digital communication and the expansion of the home office, collapsing one into the other.Footnote 15 However, this is a case in which historical semantics have a job to do catching up with studies of historical practices. That households, for the longest time in human history, have been spaces in which the division between wage labour, unpaid work and non-work dissolves is well known,Footnote 16 not least thanks to the efforts of two generations of feminist historians who followed the pioneering work of Louise Tilly and Joan Scott. Their research has abundantly shown how both housework and home-based work are highly gendered, with activities and responsibilities, rights and duties, income and status being unevenly distributed between womenFootnote 17 and men.Footnote 18 That female spheres of reproductive work have long been conceptually and statistically separated from male-dominated productive labour, while being literally the precondition for its continuous reproduction, is one of the ironies of orthodox economic thinking, whether neoclassical or Marxist.Footnote 19 More generally, which activities are defined as work at all and which are not is increasingly determined by the individuals themselves; in turn, this ‘singularisation of the working world’Footnote 20 in contemporary European societies renders the relation of work and non-work even more intricate.
The fact that any dividing line drawn between work and non-work based on pay is constantly threatening to disintegrate on closer inspection was not lost on earlier generations of statisticians who tried to come up with stable categories in which to corral the working-age population (itself far from an unequivocal moniker). Reproductive work done by women challenged the efforts at establishing strictly market-oriented conceptions of work that gave rise to and were shaped by censuses across Western Europe and the United States in the latter decades of the nineteenth century. These were, as Nancy Folbre, Christian Topalov and others have shown, historically contingent artefacts that resulted from choices male statisticians made (who might have agreed with Honneth’s mock-outrage at classifying stock market speculation as work, yet are unlikely to have readily agreed with his classification of care work).Footnote 21 Alternatives existed: Norwegian statisticians at one point varied from their peers by determining individuals’ occupations in terms not of marketability but rather the nature of the activities performed; as a result, household chores, whether paid or not, qualified as productive work, a decision that was only changed in the course of international standardisation in the inter-war period.Footnote 22 Thus, when the architects of post–Second World War welfare states set off in the 1940s, they found the dialectical twins of ‘employed’ and ‘unemployed’ firmly in place (or, as in William Beveridge’s case, had actually helped midwife them) and built institutions and policies around these, including the highly gendered, male-breadwinner centred employment relations of part-time work that have been highlighted for the Dutch case, without being exclusive to the Netherlands.Footnote 23
When these institutions started to unravel at the end of the Trente Glorieuses, the narrow understanding of work and non-work in terms of employment and unemployment immediately lent itself to a political, economic and not least of all sociological discourse that was in full crisis mode. Economic downturns, structural imbalances, increasing globalisation of value creation and technological change eroded the fabric of societies that were defined and sustained by, premised on and built for wage labour. The Arbeitsgesellschaft that Hannah Arendt had observed in the 1950s became a catchword at the very moment of its apparent disintegration.Footnote 24 To most commentators, the diagnosis threatened terminal disease, although the suggested solutions differed strongly on a spectrum from calls to expand (welfare) state intervention to shifting responsibility from the state to individuals in a feat of radical – and forced – subjectivation.Footnote 25 That more rather than less and paid rather than unpaid work remained the primary objective remained nearly uncontested beyond punk and the protest movements of the alternative left.Footnote 26 Post-productivist critiques as formulated by André Gorz (who predicted the expansion of the non-working sphere) and, a decade later, Dominique MédaFootnote 27 were only beginning to resonate with larger audiences, though not necessarily among those who perceived themselves as workers, and have gained significant traction in recent debates on ‘post-work’.Footnote 28
This pattern of worrying about labour that is either scarce or poorly paid or unsatisfactory, or all at once, while devoting little attention to non-work, has repeated itself in virtually all major current debates on work, whether these be about precariousness,Footnote 29 ‘bare laboring’,Footnote 30 ‘bullshit jobs’Footnote 31 or dystopian fears of automation that link Henry Braverman’s influential (but frequently criticised) work on deskilling with Raymond Geuss’s dire warnings against a robot-dominated world with little meaningful work left to people who still have not overcome their obsession with consumption.Footnote 32 Against this backdrop, the latest round of AI-inspired whispers about the end of work as we know it might also proceed along well-known tracks, as British sociologist Judy Wajcman has cautioned.Footnote 33 About as often as ‘work’ has been bidden farewell because, as one eminent labour historian of the last century once quipped,Footnote 34 scholars have tended to mistake the labour movement for the people it represents, it has been welcomed back.Footnote 35
Yet in all these ups and downs, non-work has been conspicuously absent from much of contemporary history debates, in particular insofar as the concept points to practices and habits of not-working while at work on the one hand and to forms of ‘wageless life’Footnote 36 beyond unemployment on the other. These are the two, broad categories that the following CEH forum sets out to highlight and explore. The three articles that fall firmly into the latter camp (Rósa Magnusdottír, Annalisa Martin, Annelie Ramsbrock) cover activities on the margins or plainly outside the formal economy, including activist work, sex work and prison work. With their characteristically large share of unacknowledged work – and with their strong implications of civil and human rights, including that to self-determined work, which underline how closely these (avowedly) universal values in European democracies are linked to the value of labour – these are at best outliers or exceptions in standard depictions of work.Footnote 37 Yet as Mala Loth shows, this is by no means self-explanatory, as lines of demarcation have been repeatedly expanded at the Court of Justice of the European Communities. Loth’s inquiry into where labour actually begins and ends in the framework of European welfare states bridges over to the articles that analyse how the boundaries of working and non-working practices were negotiated at workplaces in different trades and industries (Manuela Rienks, Kim Christian PriemelFootnote 38).
Venturing beyond the occupations and industries that have pre-occupied labour and other historians for a long time, such as dockers and textile workers, miners and car workers,Footnote 39 the two case studies look at retailing and print shopfloors. Their findings chime in with concepts and observations of anthropologists and sociologists, including ‘organisational misbehaviour’,Footnote 40 ‘empty labour’,Footnote 41 ‘output restriction’ and ‘marginal freedoms’.Footnote 42 Whether apparently trivial activities such as waiting and daydreaming result from management decisions or workers’ (re)appropriation of time and their assertion of autonomy differs strongly from case to case,Footnote 43 while absenteeism (such as moonlighting in order to raise additional incomeFootnote 44) and other forms of output restriction have the potential to provoke industrial relations conflict but also to stabilise the social spaces of factory, shop and office, as Michael Burawoy has argued.Footnote 45 The varied set of marginal freedoms that cover everything from smoking to going to the looFootnote 46 easily lends itself to historical research and is, indeed, an illustration of that famous if hard to translate notion of workers’ Eigen-Sinn, their wilfulness and sense of autonomous action.Footnote 47
Evidence of very similar practices in both West and East Europe (and indeed beyond the subcontinent) indicates that Cold War divisions were much less significant on the level of day-to-day (non-)work than the dogmas of markets and planning would suggest. This is aptly illustrated by the career of homers, artefacts that workers produced by using materials and tools in the workspace, during work hours, but not as part of the company’s official output. Although a long-established practice that goes under different names – ‘faire la perruque’ in France, ‘government jobs’ in the United States or ‘foreign orders’ in AustraliaFootnote 48 – interest in the phenomenon as well as the British–American term ‘homer’ spread only after the international publication of dissident Miklós Haraszti’s insider account of work in a Hungarian factory. His depiction of homers as expressions of workers’ will to subvert management instructions, assert autonomy, exert creativity and engage in altruistic cooperation resonated strongly with observers of work elsewhere. It also illustrated how difficult it is to uphold the division between work and non-work: a homer is emphatically both.Footnote 49
Looking at marginal and not-so-marginal freedoms also erodes the boundaries between otherwise apparently unrelated spheres of toil; homers may be produced in jail or assume the shape of shopping during working-hours when done by retail sales staff. Empty time spent waiting either for colleagues, customers or clients is ubiquitous. Short-term absenteeism happens also behind bars, and sex work is a frequent type of moonlighting. Thus, the different angles chosen by the authors of this forum converge on several common themes: the normative ascriptions to activities as work or non-work; the frequency of unacknowledged, often literally bodily work; the legal rights and titles that connect work and citizenship; the hierarchies and power relations experienced at workplaces at home or outside; the gendered stratification of types and practices of work; the combination of work and non-work as autonomous decisions over individual (life)times; and perpetual disputes – some verbally articulated, some through actions – over the authority to define what, when and where work is done – or not.
Whether or not we live, as Roland Paulsen has argued, ‘in a time in which the work concept is in an expansive phase’,Footnote 50 this forum suggests that any such expansion needs to integrate non-work systematically into analyses of past and present work. This includes our own. Working on work comes at the peril of perpetually comparing one’s own situation to historical evidence and vice versa; concepts made in other contexts appear to bear immediate relevance for one’s own plight. Certainly, while working on this forum, we – i.e., the forum’s joint editors Annelie Ramsbrock and Kim Christian Priemel – felt our fate was to provide the journal editors with unwanted waiting time and to vindicate Parkinson’s law that ‘work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion’.Footnote 51 We were intrigued by views common among some Tuareg that ‘activities performed while sitting down are not work’,Footnote 52 even though we respectfully disagree. But then again, we would not have to venture far to find raised eyebrows as to how what we do amounts to work and, if it does, why we are doing much of it during designated non-working times.Footnote 53 Alas, that’s the way we do it.