4-day workweek? Why not?

By Herman M. Lagon

Some ideas spread faster than official memos because they sound like relief. The four-day workweek is one of them. Mention it in a faculty room and you will hear two reactions in the same breath: “Pwede gid tani,” followed by, “Pero indi na bala kami mapatay sa 10 hours?” That mix is fair. Filipinos have learned to treat “new work schemes” like umbrella sales: you want one, but you suspect it will break during the first storm. Still, the conversation is worth having because what many offices call “normal” is quietly unsustainable, especially for teachers, clerks, nurses, and frontliners who go home with work still clinging to their sleeves. If a schedule tweak can reduce burnout, commute costs, and wasted time without hurting service, then it is not a luxury idea. It is a practical one.

Let us clear the confusion early: “four-day workweek” can mean two different things. One is a compressed workweek (same weekly hours, fewer days), which is the model often discussed in the Philippines: four days of roughly ten hours to complete a 40-hour week in government, or a portion of the 48-hour framework in the private sector. The other is a reduced-hours model (for example, 32 hours with the same pay), popular in some global pilots. The first is easier to implement here because it fits existing rules and does not require a new payroll logic, but it carries a real risk of fatigue if the extra hours are simply stacked without redesigning work. DOLE guidance on compressed workweek schemes underscores voluntariness, clear agreement, and limits such as not exceeding 12 hours a day, precisely because the body has limits even when deadlines do not.

The best argument for trying a four-day week is not romantic. It is operational. When people are given one extra day to recover, errands stop eating into sleep, and the mind returns less scattered. Large trials have repeatedly found that shorter weeks can maintain or even improve productivity and well-being when organizations remove low-value meetings, clarify outputs, and protect deep work time. Iceland’s well-documented trials (2015–2019) of reduced working hours reported stable or improved productivity alongside better well-being and work-life balance. The UK’s major pilot (June–December 2022) reported that 92% of participating companies continued with the four-day week afterward, with stress and burnout declining for many workers. These are not perfect societies, but they are useful mirrors: fewer days can work when the schedule change is paired with smarter workflow.

The corporate headline people love to quote is Microsoft Japan’s one-month experiment, which reported a 40% productivity boost (measured by sales per employee), plus reductions in meeting time and some operating costs. It is tempting to treat that as a magic trick: close the office on Friday, then watch output rise like a miracle. But the fine print matters. They shortened meetings, forced clearer decision-making, and nudged people away from “present but not producing.” The lesson is not “four days makes people superhuman.” The lesson is that the five-day week often hides inefficiencies we have normalized: meetings that should have been emails, emails that should have been two sentences, and tasks that exist mainly to prove we are busy.

If the four-day week has a Philippine case study, Iloilo itself already offered one during the fuel-price surge. Iloilo City implemented a four-day schedule for many City Hall employees, while maintaining essential services through continued staffing arrangements, precisely to relieve transport burden and manage costs. That experience is instructive for universities and local agencies: you can compress schedules for some roles while keeping front-facing services running through staggered teams. It does not need to be a one-size-fits-all decree. It can be a carefully designed rotation, with Monday-to-Thursday for one team, Tuesday-to-Friday for another, and a skeleton workforce for critical counters. The Civil Service Commission itself has issued guidance that explicitly recognizes a compressed workweek (including a four-day workweek) as a flexible work arrangement for government, with the key requirement of meeting the mandatory 40-hour workweek and ensuring service delivery.

For state universities, the strongest case is not only employee well-being but institutional performance. Anyone who has spent time in a registrar line knows that public service improves when staff are alert, not drained. The four-day scheme becomes workable in a university setting when it is paired with two moves: first, reorganize services around coverage rather than uniform attendance; second, measure work by outputs rather than by how long people sit near a laptop. Student-facing offices can run staggered schedules so windows remain open five days, even if individual staff work four. Faculty schedules already operate on a results-and-contact-hour logic and no-class Friday schemes; extending that philosophy to administrative workflows is not heresy. It is simply catching up to how work actually happens. The added day can also be used for research, extension fieldwork, training, formation activities, or recovery, depending on the role and season—because not every week has the same rhythm in a campus that runs classes, admissions, community work, and accreditation deadlines.

But the downsides deserve the same honesty, especially in our context where “adjustment” often becomes code for “endurance.” A compressed four-day week can mean longer days, and longer days can mean more fatigue, more accidents, and less time with children who are already asleep when you leave and asleep when you return. Labor debates have flagged this for years: worker groups have warned that stretching a day to 10–12 hours can harm health and safety, especially for physically demanding jobs, and can deepen exploitation when workers have little bargaining power. This is where prudence matters. A four-day week cannot be sold as a wellness policy while quietly creating a four-day sprint that breaks bodies. For sweatshops, manufacturing lines, clinics, and service counters, the ethical test is simple: will the change reduce strain or just repackage it?

There is also the pay question. In many households, “no work, no pay” is not a phrase. It is a monthly reality. If the scheme reduces days and reduces pay for daily wage earners, then it is not a reform, it is a pay cut wearing a productivity mask. What more for Job Orders or Contract of Service personnel? That is why any Philippine adoption needs explicit protection for vulnerable workers and clear compliance with overtime rules where applicable, including the basic principle that work beyond standards should be compensated. DOLE’s compressed workweek framework is built around agreements and guardrails; it is not a blank check for employers to squeeze more hours into fewer days without care. If institutions want this to be socially credible, they must design it so the people with the least power do not subsidize everyone else’s convenience.

So what does a workable four-day week look like in real life, especially in schools and public offices? It looks boring on paper and thoughtful in practice. Test first before declaring victory. Clarify which work depends on hours and which on results, cut meetings aggressively by keeping them short and decision-driven, and copy proven habits: fewer meetings, clearer outputs, and stronger asynchronous coordination. Stagger days off for continuity, and protect a minimal skeleton workforce for urgent services, as CSC advisories allow. Train supervisors to judge performance by service metrics and deliverables, not by “visibility.” Most importantly, build feedback loops: employees and clients will tell you quickly what is breaking and what is finally breathing.

The truth is, we are already tired, and we have data points that should make any serious institution pause. PSA data show that many of us work too much, and when overwork becomes normal, health quietly pays the price. A four-day week will not repair every flaw in the system. But it can help reduce waste, sharpen attention, allow recovery, and return time to families and communities. That is not avoiding work. That is making work livable.

Imagine the workweek as a boat at sea. Some sink because of storms; others because they are overloaded. A four-day week does not stop the waves, but it can make institutions unload what adds no value—endless meetings, duplicate tasks, and the performance of being busy. If mishandled, it tires people further. If handled well, it keeps the boat afloat. Done well—with staggered coverage, clear outputs, strong guardrails, and a real respect for human limits—it can be one of the rare reforms that makes both productivity and dignity possible in the same sentence.

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Doc H calls himself a ”student of and for life” and, like many others, wants a life-giving, why-driven world dedicated to social justice and happiness. His views may not reflect those of his employers or associates.