Why Does Work Make Us Suffer?
Fernando De Haro - Disaffection with work seems to be growing, and the proposed remedies do not appear to be up to the challenge.
It's not outright humiliation. It's not an injustice that makes you want to scream or look up your lawyer friend's phone number. It's more of a feeling of being undervalued. And you end up not appreciating a job that once awakened an unknown energy in you. You distance yourself: "After all, it's just a job, nothing more. I do what I have to do, I get paid, and then I go back to my life."
The reasoning is false, and you know it. Much of your life, much of your week, takes place within the four walls of your company, and you know that it isn't possible to take refuge in indifference. You have erected a cynical barrier between your passion and your duties, but it doesn't work. The hours drag on. You no longer talk about the challenges ahead. You only criticize your boss's inability to understand you, motivate you, or organize things properly. Thoughts of self-pity become frequent. You sleep poorly. You are exhausted and worn out. Like many others.
After COVID-19, there was a lot of talk about the "Great Resignation"—the large number of workers, especially in the United States, who refused to return to their jobs. The conversation around the problem has quieted down, but the issue hasn't disappeared. A few weeks ago, Forbes published a survey: 66% of US workers are exhausted, and 82% are at risk of burnout. For Generation Z (ages 21–27) and Millennials (ages 28–43), the percentage is close to 90%. Nine out of ten young and middle-aged adults are unhappy at work. Those closer to retirement suffer less.
The global economy is facing turbulence due to trade wars, geostrategic instability, the energy transition, and the challenge of artificial intelligence. But these challenges are nothing compared to the one threatening its very foundation: the profound malaise and dissatisfaction of workers. Burnout already accounts for a 4% loss in global GDP. Statistics on exhausted workers in Europe are slightly lower than those in the United States, but the same generational phenomenon is repeating itself. Baby Boomers (those over 60) are the least exhausted and relate best to their colleagues.
Why do young people suffer more from burnout? One easy answer is to accuse the younger generations of having "lost their values" and their capacity for sacrifice. This claim—that the past was inherently better—is a sign of intellectual laziness and a lack of appreciation for the present. Another simple answer is to accuse members of Generation Z and Millennials of a narcissism that prevents them from having a healthy relationship with reality. In this vein, the otherwise admirable David Brooks recently wrote an article in The New York Times. The columnist claimed that this narcissism and inability to practice self-denial have destroyed love. "We have spent too many decades preoccupied with the self," Brooks declared.
It is exactly the opposite. Burnout is the ultimate example of how neglecting the self—by not taking our desire for fulfillment seriously and by lacking self-esteem—prevents us from being patient, persevering through fatigue, and protecting our energy from inefficient, unfair, or inconsiderate bosses. Self-love is what allows us to endure fatigue and be free from a certain idea of what we should be as workers. This pressure to be a certain way is the real trap.
Many try to solve the problem of burnout with the very virus that caused it: by further increasing the distance between who one is and who one feels they should be. The exact opposite is needed: one works well only when this distance is reduced to zero.
Wanting to be loved, appreciated, and seeking satisfaction in what we do is not a disease; it is our nature and the source of all our energy. A few days ago, Antonia Bentel, a freelance writer, published the results of a short survey on the platform Substack. She asked a group of friends and strangers to explain what it means to fall in love.
One replied, "Falling in love is like entering a room in your house that you didn't know existed."
Another: "I fall in love when someone sees me in a way I didn't know I could be seen."
A third: "I fall in love when someone looks at me in my absolute mess, in my pain, in my pettiness, with my unpaid traffic fines."
Are these the responses of narcissistic or sentimental people? On the contrary, they are the reactions of people who have "known" themselves, who have looked at themselves in a different way: pettiness and inadequacy no longer block them. A new, more powerful self has emerged within them. We are exhausted because we have neglected this self.
