The modern world revolves around the metrics of productivity. From optimized lunch breaks, time blocking our schedules, to using LLMs to craft our emails, we’ve engineered our lives to maximize output at every turn. Even our leisure activities increasingly come with metrics, scores, and achievements — fitness means closing rings on our Apple Watches, hobbies turn to side-hustles, and reading becomes a challenge with annual targets. Why? Because time is money. So every moment must be measured, every action quantified to chase an ever-rising benchmark of efficiency that often prioritizes profit over human wellbeing.

But what if we told you that before the rise of industrial capitalism, humans had no concept of productivity as we understand it today? That there was simply life and the work needed to sustain it ? Time was dictated by the sun: once it had set, work simply ceased because it was too dark to work — nature’s own punch-out clock. The setting sun drew a firm, non-negotiable line between work and rest — no overtime, no urgent emails to answer by lamplight.

While this period had its own forms of exploitation through feudal systems, work itself was viewed as a natural part of life’s fabric, rather than a commodified, measurable activity to be optimized for maximum profit.

The late 18th century marked a rupture in humanity’s relationship with work. The invention of steam power and the mechanization of production created unprecedented capabilities, but it also gave rise to new forms of work — or overwork. Factory owners, driven by the bottom line, needed ways to measure and optimize their operations, leading to the birth of modern productivity concepts — ones that would be used to justify increasingly demanding working conditions under the guise of it benefiting society as a whole.

With the late 19th century came electricity, assembly lines, and mass production. In 1913, Henry Ford introduced the first ever moving assembly line. It wasn’t just a technical innovation — it represented a philosophical shift that reduced workers to interchangeable parts in a greater machine. While Ford’s USD 5 day wage is often celebrated, it came with stringent behavioral controls and intensified work expectations that kickstarted capitalism’s growing power over workers’ lives. US inventor Frederick W. Taylor’s Principles of Scientific Management emerged during this period, promoting the system for — essentially — stripping workers of their specialized knowledge and autonomy, transferring control to management.

One of the most cynical aspects of productivity’s history is the repeatedly broken promise of technology-enabled leisure. In 1930, economist John Maynard Keynes predicted that by 2030 we might only work 15 hours per week thanks to technological advancement. But we’re still working almost three times as much, just five years away from Keynes’ (retrospectively bullish) prediction. Similar predictions emerged with each major technological breakthrough — cough, AI, cough — dangling the prospect of liberation from toil while concealing our global economy’s insatiable appetite for surplus value.

The first computers sparked particular optimism. When IBM introduced its early office computers in the 1950s, many believed that automation would dramatically reduce working hours while maintaining or increasing living standards. In 1956, Richard Nixon, then Vice President, promised US citizens a four-day workweek in the “not too distant future.”

It’s a feature, not a bug: As productivity increased, working hours didn’t decrease proportionally — instead, these promises proved hollow as corporations consistently chose to extract more value from workers in chase of a bigger bottom line, rather than split the difference to improve workers’ quality of life. This wasn’t a quirk of the system, but rather its fundamental logic. Capitalistic drive for endless growth and profit accumulation meant that any gains in productivity would be channeled into expansion rather than worker welfare.

Unfortunately, the rise of digital technology has done more to erase the boundaries between work and personal life. Email, smartphones, and remote work capabilities have created an “always-on” culture where workers are expected to be perpetually available. And the technofascist tendencies of Silicon Valley has given birth to surveillance technologies that monitor keystrokes, track bathroom breaks, and measure productivity in increasingly invasive ways.

Today’s productivity crisis goes beyond economic metrics — it has evolved into what many experts call toxic productivity, an unhealthy compulsion to be productive at all times, often at the expense of mental health, physical wellbeing, and interpersonal relationships. The mindset has become deeply embedded in corporate culture, where the drive to be constantly productive is celebrated — and even expected — despite mounting evidence of its harmful effects. The old mantra “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” has become a disturbing badge of honor in many workplaces.

Many thought that the rise of remote work would usher in a healthier work-life balance, but in some ways, working from home has intensified these issues. The WFH model led to a staggering 192% increase in weekly meetings, according to the Harvard Business Review, likely an overcorrection of losing the control inherent in the physical confinements of an office. Workers are now caught in a cycle of over-meeting, over-collaboration, and constant digital availability.

While some economists argue that we’re measuring productivity wrong, perhaps the real issue is that we’re measuring the wrong things entirely. The problems go beyond the obsession with GDP growth and corporate profits — we’re seeing a crisis of worker wellbeing with increasing rates of burnout, anxiety, and physical health issues tied to overwork.

The history of productivity offers crucial lessons for those seeking alternatives. While some companies experiment with four-day workweeks and discussions about universal basic income gain prominence, these reforms don’t address the fundamental issue: the continuous need to expand.

Real change would require reconceptualizing productivity itself, moving away from metrics focused solely on output and profit, and toward measures that prioritize human wellbeing, environmental sustainability, and social progress. But degrowth and reducing working hours without loss of pay seems more outlandish — and unacceptable — to the corporate economy than grueling workloads and 80 hour workweeks.

Breaking free from toxic productivity relies on systemic change, but on a personal level, it means learning to separate self-worth from productivity metrics, setting healthy boundaries, and recognizing that rest is not just permissible, but necessary for sustained performance. Author and medical professional Dr. Will Cole writes that toxic productivity is continuously conflated with success. “There’s nothing wrong with being successful, productive and proficient, but when it comes at the expense of your health, it becomes a problem.” He adds that without rest, “your body’s going to pick a time for you that you won’t be able to work.”