Karl Deisseroth, one of the three recipients of the 2026 Nobel Prize in Medicine, talks to his wife, Michelle Monje-Deisseroth, at home in Stanford, California, on Oct. 5.AP/YONHAP
Choi Hoon
The author is a professor of psychology at Hallym University.
Karl Deisseroth, a co-recipient of this year's Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, learned of his award shortly after midnight. He had been reviewing academic papers, as usual, and was preparing for bed when the news arrived.
What does the hour matter when the news concerns a Nobel Prize? Reporters began arriving before dawn. Yet on this historic morning, Deisseroth asked them to leave him alone for an hour starting at 6:30 a.m. He needed time to prepare his children's packed lunches. Evidently, those lunches mattered to him as much as the Nobel Prize.
Some might see this episode as evidence of his devotion to family. Others might appreciate its implications for gender equality in household responsibilities, given that a father was preparing his children's lunches. What struck me, however, was the social environment in which his request to rearrange his schedule for childcare was readily accepted.
Work-life balance has become an increasingly important value. Many employees want to leave work on time and disconnect completely from professional responsibilities afterward.
Yet research on the boundaries between work and personal life places greater emphasis on so-called boundary control: the extent to which individuals feel empowered to decide when and how to separate or move between their professional and personal lives.
Deisseroth's experience illustrates this distinction. His work-life boundaries were hardly rigid, considering that he routinely worked late into the night. Nevertheless, he clearly enjoyed the freedom to determine when to devote his time and energy to work and when to prioritize his family.
From this perspective, insisting too rigidly on separating work from personal life might not always be the wisest approach.
But how many people in Korean workplaces could interrupt a meeting running beyond regular working hours and ask for a schedule adjustment because they needed to prepare dinner for their children?
When people feel they lack the authority to move freely between professional and personal responsibilities, drawing strict boundaries becomes a more realistic form of self-protection.
The desire to leave work promptly and avoid after-hours communication may therefore reflect something deeper than a preference for leisure. It may represent an attempt to regain control over time that employees otherwise cannot manage independently.
Before framing disagreements over work-life balance as a generational conflict, perhaps we should ask a more fundamental question: To what extent does our society genuinely respect each individual's personal life and allow people to decide how to balance their competing responsibilities?
This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.
