The title of this focal article (unashamedly paraphrased from Edwin Starr’s classic 1970 antiwar song) is only partly intended to be tongue in cheek; work is a strange thing with a very checkered history. For the most part, it is something we take for granted. Most able-bodied adults work. Working hard is taken as a sign of being an upstanding citizen. Right wing politicians even insist that “government handouts” only be made available in exchange for participation in “workfare” programs. Moreover, work is not just something we do; over the last 100 years or so, it has become a defining, constitutive feature of who we are as human beings. Our very sense of identity and well-being is tied up with our relationship to work. It is no accident, after all, that the first question we ask a stranger is, “What do you do?” (and we are not asking about their hobbies); we see this question as a way of taking the measure of that person.