In this book, you’ll learn
“Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.”
This sentiment is now endlessly echoed in self-help books, career advice articles, commencement speeches, and inspirational social media posts.
To some, these words might sound cheesy and clichéd, yet many of us, even if we phrase it differently, share the desire to work in a field we love. After all, what could be better than getting paid to do meaningful work that you truly enjoy?
However, as labor journalist and workers’ rights advocate Sarah Jaffe highlights, there are significant problematic assumptions, implications, and realities lurking beneath the surface of this seemingly harmless concept.
In this book, you’ll discover:
– why workers once had very different perspectives on their labor,
– how our modern views on work emerged from a significant defeat of the labor movement,
– and why “doing what you love” often translates to accepting poor working conditions.
If you’ve been part of the modern workforce, you’re aware that employers now expect much more than just fulfilling job duties for a paycheck. They want employees to be passionate, dedicated, and enthusiastic about their work, willing to go above and beyond for customers, clients, companies, teams, or causes.
In essence, employers don’t just want our labor; they expect us to “love” our work, both emotionally and behaviorally. Emotionally, this means finding pleasure and fulfillment in your job and valuing it highly. Behaviorally, it means demonstrating commitment and devotion by making sacrifices for your job. The key message is that many modern workers have embraced the labor-of-love work ethic, a relatively recent development. Loving your work has evolved into a work ethic, a set of norms shaping our understanding and relationship with work, which the author refers to as the labor-of-love ethic.
As a set of norms, this ethic is something we, as employees, are expected to adhere to, and many of us genuinely believe in it. We aspire to enjoy our work and view a “good job” as one that is pleasurable, meaningful, and fulfilling. However, this perspective wasn’t always prevalent. In the early to mid-twentieth century, a “good job” in the U.S. was defined by providing ample free time, resources, and stability, which many workers achieved. Not surprisingly, many of these workers were union members, which enabled them to organize strikes and use their collective bargaining power to secure improvements from their employers.
One notable achievement was the Fordist compromise, named after the Henry Ford Motor Company. This agreement, which functioned as a sort of truce between employers and workers, included reducing the workday from 12 hours to eight, guaranteeing weekends off, and providing a wage sufficient for a single income to support a family. However, like many truces, this arrangement was precarious and didn’t endure for long.
Although tensions between employers and workers persisted, the transactional relationship remained fairly stable until the 1960s. During this period of social upheaval, employers became increasingly frustrated with the concessions won by workers, believing that these compromises undermined their ability to achieve greater profits.
This pursuit of profit-driven capitalism led to the collapse of the Fordist compromise, paving the way for what became known as neoliberalism. Starting in the 1970s, this era marked a period when businesses aggressively sought to maximize their profits, often leveraging politicians and policymakers to further their objectives.
Through coordinated efforts, industrial businesses dismantled labor unions and reduced funding for or privatized government social welfare programs. They required their employees to work longer hours for lower pay and fewer benefits, while also automating or outsourcing unionized factory jobs and increasing productivity targets. The outcome has been the present global economy, where the principles of neoliberalism have become the standard.
The central point is that neoliberalism dismantled the Fordist compromise and fundamentally changed both the job market and the prevailing attitudes toward work.
Although imperfect, the Fordist compromise primarily benefited white male workers, while women and people of color were largely excluded from its advantages. However, in the wake of the social transformations of the 1960s, many middle-class white women began to view joining the workforce as a path to empowerment and personal fulfillment, which particularly challenged the “family wage” aspect of the compromise.
When neoliberal capitalism emerged in the 1970s and dismantled the Fordist compromise and its associated “family wage,” white working-class and lower-middle-class women could no longer rely on the income of male partners, even if they wished to. As a result, millions of white women entered the paid labor market, alongside women of color, taking on domestic and other low-wage service sector jobs.
As the 1970s transitioned into the 1980s, leaders like UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and US President Ronald Reagan accelerated the neoliberal agenda. They targeted unions, reduced labor protections, and promoted the labor-of-love ethos.
Between 1973 and 1980 in the US, 70 percent of new jobs were in the service and retail sectors. These positions were largely low-wage, unstable, and lacked union representation, and were predominantly occupied by women and people of color who had been advocating for improved conditions for many years.
Simultaneously, millions of new jobs emerged in the healthcare, technology, and nonprofit sectors—a trend that persists today. As white men left factory jobs and moved into professions previously dominated by women, the job market became more deunionized, deindustrialized, feminized, and racially diverse.
As we look at the current landscape of work, it’s helpful to consider it from a broader perspective.
In general, modern work can be divided into two primary categories. One category is care work, which encompasses any labor, whether paid or unpaid, that involves caring for others, such as roles performed by parents, housekeepers, and nonprofit employees. The other category is creative work, which focuses on generating something new, including art, knowledge, technology, entertainment, and sports.
We will now explore how the labor-of-love ethic applies distinctly to each of these two categories.
Here’s the key point: In today’s view of labor, work is divided into two gendered categories, each reflecting the labor-of-love ethic.
Women predominantly fill roles in care work, such as caregiving and household responsibilities. This division is influenced by traditional gender stereotypes that associate femininity with nurturing and self-sacrifice, leading to the belief that women are particularly suited for these types of jobs.
In contrast, the field of creative work has traditionally been dominated by men. This dominance is accompanied by the stereotype that men possess a unique form of artistic, intellectual, mathematical, or athletic “genius” that is expressed through their creative endeavors.
However, these stereotypes are merely that—stereotypes. They don’t accurately represent everyone, nor do they reflect how things should be or their inherent nature. Despite this, under the labor-of-love ethic, “female” care work is seen as requiring self-sacrifice for others, while “male” creative work is viewed as demanding dedication to one’s craft. Considering these work spheres through the lens of the labor-of-love ethic—which emphasizes devotion and sacrifice—who or what would you be channeling your energy, time, and skills towards?
For care work, the focus is mainly on serving others, whereas for creative work, the emphasis is on dedicating oneself to the craft or activity involved.
Let’s entertain the notion that all these concepts about work, sacrifice, fulfillment, gender, and the labor-of-love ethic are accurate, just for the sake of argument. If care work is naturally fulfilling for women and creative work is equally fulfilling for men, then it might seem as though they aren’t really working at all. It would be just women being themselves and men being themselves, engaging in activities that come most naturally to them and provide the greatest satisfaction.
If we assume that the work itself provides all the reward someone needs, then why should they be paid? Perhaps a basic income is necessary to support their survival and enable them to continue working, but anything beyond that might seem unnecessary. Do you see the implications of this perspective?
The core message here is that the labor-of-love ethic rationalizes working harder and longer for lower wages and fewer benefits.
Since the collapse of the Fordist compromise and the rise of neoliberalism in the 1970s, wages for many workers in advanced capitalist countries have either stagnated or fallen. Additionally, employers have reduced benefits, such as private pensions and healthcare plans in the US.
Simultaneously, employers are increasingly demanding more from their employees. Merely performing your job is no longer sufficient. Depending on your role, you may need to maintain a cheerful demeanor with customers, sacrifice personal time for your work, or treat the families you serve as if they were your own. More broadly, you’re expected to invest deeply in your tasks, show “passion” for your job, and express gratitude just for having the opportunity to work.
Meanwhile, the traditional five-day, 40-hour workweek from the Fordist era has largely disappeared for many workers. This is particularly evident at the lower end of the job market, where service and retail employees frequently juggle multiple part-time jobs and face exhausting, unpredictable schedules.
This shift is not limited to lower-wage jobs. Take the tech industry, for instance—often seen as a prestigious and well-compensated sector. Even in this field, software developers frequently face demanding schedules, working 60 to 85 hours per week during intense “crunch” periods. Despite the long hours, the expectation is that they should be content because they’re pursuing work they love.
Under the labor-of-love ethic, work is considered its own reward, effectively blurring the lines between work and passion. Now, incorporating the gender stereotypes we discussed earlier and other cultural notions, consider this: If you’re a woman working with children, it’s often seen as merely fulfilling a nurturing role, reinforcing the stereotype that women naturally enjoy and excel in such caregiving positions.
For a male artist engaged in painting, writing, or music, the work is often perceived as a light-hearted hobby—something done purely for enjoyment. If they earn any income from it, they should consider themselves fortunate. Similarly, video game programmers are so closely associated with play that the tech industry has coined the term “playbor” to describe their work. This perspective extends further, but the underlying message is clear. Now, let’s explore some of the most troubling consequences of the labor-of-love ethic.
The central idea is that the labor-of-love ethic undermines the value of our work by exploiting the concept and emotions of love.
According to this belief, if you are doing what you love, you supposedly won’t feel like you’re working at all. Consequently, this reasoning implies that you shouldn’t expect fair compensation or reasonable work hours.
If you truly love your work, you should, in theory, be prepared to do it without pay and for as long as possible. Any salary or time off you receive is merely an extra benefit, granted to accommodate the basic necessities of life like eating, sleeping, and returning to work. But what happens if you don’t love your job?
Well, that’s unfortunate. Perhaps you picked the wrong career path or maybe you need to change your attitude. In today’s job market, having a job—especially a “good” one that many others would eagerly take—should be considered a privilege.
In either case, the blame falls on you. Regardless of how you genuinely feel, you’re expected to pretend you love your work. If you’re not prepared to go along with that, then you might as well head to the unemployment office.
What if you’re deeply dissatisfied with your work and are considering forming a union, making demands, or going on strike to improve your pay, hours, or working conditions?
Today, under the influence of the labor-of-love ethic, many employers promote the idea that employees are part of a “family” or “team” and should make sacrifices for the company’s “mission.” This rhetoric suggests that if you truly enjoy your work, there’s no need to unionize or strike for improved working conditions.
In reality, your employers are not your family. You’re hired not out of affection but because they profit from your work. Unlike your real family, they can dismiss you if you don’t meet their expectations.
The main point is that the labor-of-love ethic undermines efforts to unionize and distances us from the people and activities we cherish most.
Let’s explore the workplace-as-family analogy a bit further. While you might figuratively be “fired” from a family role, such as handling dishwashing duties, it’s also possible for family relationships to end in divorce, estrangement, or complete separation.
However, family members can’t “fire” you in the same way an employer can terminate a legally binding contract between parties with differing power dynamics. To put it plainly, your employer controls the financial resources you need, while you don’t. In contrast, relationships with your parents, siblings, partner, children, or relatives are built on blood ties, shared experiences, and, ideally, familial love.
Unfortunately, the labor-of-love ethic often harms our personal relationships the most. As employers increase demands for time, commitment, and sacrifice, the line between work and personal life becomes increasingly blurred. Meanwhile, despite our efforts, many of us continue to struggle financially and are left feeling exhausted. This burnout and stress adversely affect our connections with family and friends, leading to feelings of exploitation, isolation, and fatigue.
Here’s the catch: As work consumes so much of our lives, leaving us with little time or energy for anything or anyone else, where do we turn to fill the emptiness many of us feel? We turn to work itself, since it seems to be our only option. However, this only traps us further into the cycle established by the labor-of-love ethic. So, how can we escape this repetitive cycle?
Here’s the main point: To free ourselves from the labor-of-love ethic, we must rebuild our connections with each other.
Often, in our busy, exhausted, and financially strained lives, we attempt to fit personal relationships into brief, infrequent encounters. These interactions are frequently framed around trivial activities, such as grabbing a coffee, rather than fostering meaningful connections.
These interactions are frequently transactional: short exchanges of personal updates that simply tick off another task on our never-ending to-do list (“catch up with Sally: done”). We then hurriedly move on to the next brief encounter, if we’re not heading back to work.
Certainly, having a coffee with friends isn’t problematic. However, the issue arises when these brief meet-ups replace extended, leisurely hours spent enjoying each other’s company.
Currently, we should strive to make more time for one another, but we will never achieve this unless we reduce our work hours. We need more than just “passion” for our jobs; we need shorter work hours, higher wages, and improved benefits—both from our employers and the government.
Let’s be realistic.
It’s unlikely that employers will voluntarily offer shorter hours, higher wages, and improved benefits simply out of goodwill. History has shown that to achieve better working conditions and enhance our lives outside of work, we must organize, unionize, make demands, and, if necessary, strike.
The Fordist compromise of the twentieth century was an imperfect, fragile, and deeply flawed accomplishment of that era’s labor movement. We shouldn’t romanticize it or long for the “good old days,” which were far from ideal for many women and people of color. Nevertheless, for the workers it did benefit, it was a significant step forward achieved through considerable struggle.
However, that struggle is not just a chapter in history. Globally, millions of workers and activists are sustaining and intensifying it every day.
The key message is: The labor struggle is ongoing.
By the early twenty-first century, union membership in the US and other advanced capitalist nations had reached historic lows. At the same time, wages were stagnant, work hours were increasing, and the situation remained largely unchanged.
Given this context, many activists within the labor movement and the broader political left felt disheartened and defeated. In the ongoing conflict between neoliberalism and those envisioning a better world, neoliberalism had repeatedly emerged victorious for decades.
However, since the 2007–2008 financial crisis exposed the stark inequalities and inherent flaws in our current system, an increasing number of people have begun to recognize the unfairness and shortcomings of neoliberalism.
Simultaneously, workers across various sectors—such as teachers, retail staff, domestic workers, nonprofit employees, and tech professionals—have been achieving notable successes through unionization efforts, strikes, legal actions, and legislative victories.
Activists are advocating for more transformative changes, such as implementing a universal basic income, which would reduce people’s reliance on employment for survival. This would give individuals the freedom to reject poor wages, unreasonable hours, or unfavorable working conditions, and to engage in unpaid labor, such as caregiving. The struggle persists, and the future is still to be determined.
The main takeaway from this book:
There’s nothing wrong with loving what you do. If you genuinely enjoy your work, that’s wonderful. And dedicating yourself to a cause you care about is admirable. The issue arises when certain ideas, rhetoric, and tactics are used to justify and pressure us into accepting longer hours, higher demands, lower pay, and worse working conditions under the guise of “love.” This isn’t love; it’s exploitation, which leaves us burned out, isolated, and unable to fully appreciate anything or anyone outside of work.