From Chicago to today: How capitalism still owns your time

“Excuse me friends, I have to go to the office for an urgent report,” one of my friends said, glancing at his phone. “At this time? On this day?” we all responded in disbelief.
It was 9:00 pm on a Friday—a time meant for rest, family, and reflection. Yet, for many of us living under modern economic structures, such moments are no longer sacred. They are negotiable. Replaceable. Disposable. If you are asked, “How long do you work?” your answer will likely be structured, safe, and legally compliant: eight hours a day, forty hours a week, as per labor law. But let us be honest—deeply honest. Is that really the truth?
Work in today’s capitalist system is not confined to office walls or official hours. It invades the mind. It occupies silence. It travels home with you. You may leave the office physically, but mentally, you remain on duty. You think about unfinished reports, upcoming meetings, performance targets, and organizational pressures.
Even during family dinners, your mind drifts back to work. Even during rest, your brain remains employed.
So how do we really measure work? Is it by the hours recorded in attendance systems, or by the mental energy continuously extracted from us?
Capitalism, in its most aggressive form, thrives on this invisible extraction. It does not merely purchase your time—it absorbs your attention, your creativity, your emotional capacity. It stretches the definition of “work” beyond boundaries, turning employees into constant contributors, even in their supposed moments of rest.
To understand the depth of this issue, we must revisit history.
On 1 May, 1886 in Chicago, thousands of workers took to the streets demanding something very basic: an eight-hour workday. These were not unreasonable demands. They were human demands. The rally, which later became associated with the Haymarket Affair, was a response to brutal working conditions where laborers were forced to work 10, 12, even 16 hours a day. They were not asking for luxury—they were asking for dignity.
The slogan that emerged from that movement was powerful and simple:
“Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will.”
Today, we celebrate Labor Day in many countries, remembering that struggle. But have we truly honored it? Or have we quietly allowed the system to reverse those gains in more sophisticated ways?
Modern capitalism does not always force you physically to work longer hours—it does something far more subtle. It creates an environment where you choose to work more. Where you feel guilty if you disconnect. Where ambition is confused with overwork, and dedication is measured by availability.
Emails do not stop. Messages arrive at all hours. Deadlines extend into weekends. The line between “urgent” and “important” disappears. And slowly, without realizing it, your life becomes an extension of your job.
This is where the system becomes dangerous. Capitalism promises growth, innovation, and wealth creation. And to some extent, it delivers. But at what cost? The cost is often hidden in burnout, stress, anxiety, broken families, and declining mental health.
The cost is paid silently by individuals who are constantly “connected” but deeply disconnected from themselves.
Let us be clear—this is not a rejection of work, nor of economic systems. Work is essential. Productivity matters. Organizations must grow. But when the system begins to consume the individual rather than support them, it becomes exploitative.
It is no longer just about earning a living—it becomes about losing a life while trying to earn it.
A healthy economic system should respect boundaries. It should recognise that human beings are not machines. They need rest, relationships, reflection, and renewal. Without these, productivity itself becomes unsustainable.
So, the real question is not: How many hours do you work? The real question is: How much of your life is being taken by work—seen and unseen?
The story that began at 9:00 pm on a Friday is not unusual. It is becoming the norm. And that is exactly the problem.
If the workers of Chicago could stand up in 1886 for eight hours of dignity, perhaps today’s professionals must stand up again—not against work, but against the silent expansion of work into every corner of life. Because if we do not redefine the boundaries, the system will continue to redefine them for us.

Mohammed Anwar Al Balushi The author works at UTAS