Feature: Messaging, video calls and email puncture the once-solid line between the office and home. Peter Griffin talks to experts about how we might gain the benefits of flexible communication but avoid the perils of burnout.
We might think that our 'always online' work culture is a thoroughly modern phenomenon, but industrial-organisational psychologist Associate Professor Lixin Jiang traces its roots back more than three decades. Email, text messaging and ubiquitous internet access began as tools to boost productivity and enable flexibility, she notes, but they've also normalised workers' availability well beyond standard working hours.
As the founding director of the University's Master of Organisational Psychology programme, Lixin is clear about the outcome of this normalisation: "It's bad for employee health and well-being; it interrupts their sleep and family life."
People need psychological detachment from work to recover, she says. Without it, performance and well-being degrade. But with unemployment reaching above five percent mid-year in New Zealand, and job listings at record lows, job insecurity and an expectation to be available can ratchet up the pressure on workers.
"If you see your supervisor sending you emails at 10pm, you may feel the need to respond," says Lixin.
Dr Joanne Mutter, a senior lecturer in human resources at the University's Business School, agrees that the tech-enabled "expectations of connectivity", which compounded during the pandemic, make it difficult for workers to switch off. That erodes the quality of their decisions, she says, and elevates stress levels.
She points to the psychology of place: commuting once provided a cognitive boundary - the car or bus ride home drawing a line under the day's work. Now, home offices, complete with remote access to company networks, make detaching harder.
If you see your supervisor sending you emails at 10pm, you may feel the need to respond.
Associate Professor Lixin Jiang Faculty of Science
Some countries have responded by codifying a 'right to disconnect' into law. France pioneered it in 2017, requiring firms with 50 or more employees to negotiate rules on after hours digital tools or adopt a charter, embedding the norm without a blanket ban.
Portugal went further, making it unlawful for employers to contact staff during rest periods and enabling fines for breaches. Australia's national reform, which came into effect in August 2024, gives employees the right to refuse after hours contact unless refusal is 'unreasonable', factoring in role, urgency, disruption caused, and personal circumstances.
While no such laws currently appear on New Zealand's horizon, Simon Schofield, a professional teaching fellow at Auckland Law School, sees value in us also instituting a statutory right to disconnect.
New Zealand has a web of legal mechanisms that can address extreme cases, but it's complex. The Minimum Wage Act's 40-hour week can be contracted around, while 'availability provisions' require reasonable compensation if workers must respond after-hours, for example. Employees can bring personal grievances for 'unjustified disadvantage' over excessive hours and even claim constructive dismissal, while the Health and Safety at Work Act imposes duties to manage fatigue, with prosecutions when risks aren't controlled.
Simon says in practice, however, after-hours pressure often surfaces indirectly: 'I worked really hard on this project and then I had a breakdown', rather than as clean test cases about late-night texts. That's why he favours a clear right to disconnect that aligns with existing law but clarifies norms.
"Ideally, you'd have legislation to clean up this area." A right to disconnect is a 'negative right to not have to respond' - a simple rule that "lets employees know what their rights are", he says, cutting through legal complexity.
Joanne is more sceptical that regulation provides the answers, warning it can backfire for those who benefit from the flexible timing of work communications.
"You're either an integrator or you're a segregator when it comes to work," she says.
"Blanket restrictions like 'you cannot send an email after six o'clock at night', don't work for everybody," she says, adding they could undermine gains in female workforce participation and support for caregivers. Joanne's preference is to promote more mature organisational norms around "asynchronous connectivity".
"It makes clear that I'm allowed to send you an email, but I do not expect your response outside work hours," she explains.
Such provisions should be championed from the top of organisations and backed by simple tools, such as email signatures that signal expectations.
Culturally, New Zealand isn't notably better or worse than its peers when it comes to expecting workers to respond after hours, says Lixin. She contrasts New Zealand's work culture with that of China, where deference to supervisors makes after-hours availability more normalised.
"It's definitely worse there than in New Zealand," says Lixin, who hails from mainland China.
While she doesn't see our organisational culture changing any time soon, she doesn't necessarily think legislation is the answer. It's still not clear what impact such laws have had offshore, she says. Also, at a time when businesses are struggling to improve their productivity, the underlying pressure to contact employees after hours may still remain.
Her focus is on leadership: "If leaders and supervisors support the balance between working life and family life, employees will have an easier time disconnecting, and that will have better health consequences."
Finally, she points out, there are small steps workers can take to avoid falling into the trap of working at all hours.
"I've deleted my work email from my phone to avoid constant checking," she says. "I do hope people can embrace this culture of not being continuously available."
This article first appeared in the Spring 2025 issue of Ingenio.
