Why Work so Hard?

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue VI, 6 August 1904, Page 27

Why Work so Hard?

NOT SUCH A FOOLISH QUESTION AS IT LOOKS. One of the curious outcomes of civilisation is that people who are civilised have to work much harder than savages and barbarians. The savage spends most of his life in enjoyment; the civilised man is fortunate if he can snatch a few weeks, or even days, out of the year to enjoy himself. And even this relaxation he looks upon as a preparation for more work. So hard have we to work, indeed, that we regard labour as the chief end of our lives. Of course, this view is absurd. What we work for is to provide food, clothes, houses, and other necessaries of existence, and over and above these to procure good furniture, pianos, pictures, books, jewellery, theatre-tickets, rooms to danee in, cricket and golf apparatus, yachts, bicycles, horses, and other means of enjoyment. Now, to spend nine-tenths of our lives in getting these and onlv one-tenth in the enjoyment of them is absurd. Yet that is what most people do. and. in fact, the man who gives the most time to labour and the least to enjoyment is looked upon as the most sensible member of the community. He is actually quite the most foolish. Ask that man a few questions and you will discover his stupidity. “Why do you work so hard?” “I am happy only when working.” “What do you work for?” “To make money.” “What is the use of money?” “To buy things.” “What are the things for?” “To be enjoyed.” “When are you going to enjoy them?” “When I knock off work.” But he only knocks off work when he has given him=elf consumption, heartdisease, rheumatism, or some other disabling malady by overwork. The irony of it all is that one of the chief aims of civilised people is to invent labour-saving machines. They have been inventing these for hundreds of years, yet work is carried on at higher pressure than ever. The Americans, celebrated for labour-saving machinery, are the greatest slaves to worn in the world. Then look at all the unnecessary

things that we work for —for instance, silver-mounted and perfectly useless cans. These are a mere survival of barbarous times, when everyone had to protect himself. White linen shirts, most expensive to keep clean, and very uncomfortable; silk hats, etc., etc., etc.

Half of the things we buy with money earned by overwork we should be just as happy without, and very much happier, for we would have more time for enjoyment. Take an individual ease. A man works from Monday morning to Saturday afternoon, and earns six pounds. He rushes to the seaside in a crowded train, arrives there tired, is bored all Sunday,

gets up before he has slept enough on Monday morning, and back to work. What does he go to the seaside for? To make himself fit for more work. If he does not go to the country he breaks down—a clear proof that he has worked too hard. As a result we have a Royal Commission inquiring into the deterioration of the race. A great doctor says that we all work too many days in the week, and if a medical commission were appointed to draw up a scale of work-hours they would probably turn out something like the following: For school-children, three hours in school and one hour’s lessons at home.

For outdoor workers, eight hours daily. For factory hands, clerks, shop-as-sistants, etc., seven hours daily. For writers, professional men, and other brain-workers, five hours daily. (Hear, hear!—Answers staff.) The week to consist of five days—four days’ work and one day’s rest. Holidays, two weeks at least, four times a year. If something like this rule were adopted we might not be so rich, as a nation, but we should enjoy better health, greater happiness, ami longer life.