What 'It's a Wonderful Life' can teach us about capitalism | Opinion

(This column discusses plot details of the 1946 film "It's a Wonderful Life." If you haven't seen it, you might want to stop reading, but do watch it as soon as you possibly can.)

I didn't see "It's a Wonderful Life" until I was 40. It wasn't a Christmas staple in my home growing up, and back then it was a lot harder to watch old movies, because VCRs hadn't been invented yet. Also, my mother finds it "precious," the word she uses for things that are unbearably pleased with themselves.

My mother is right about almost everything, but I'm sorry, mama, you were wrong about "It's a Wonderful Life."

I saw the movie for the first time eight years ago at Detroit's Redford Theatre, which is about my favorite place on earth, again two years ago with my son (necessitating, about 45 minutes into the movie, a whispered aside explaining the stock market crash of 1929 and the run on banks), and last Saturday, with my child and my husband.

The Redford never fails to delight, and neither does "It's a Wonderful Life." I started to tear up in the first scene, and by the movie's heartfelt conclusion, all three of us were sobbing wrecks.

Most folks know the story, even if they're not faithful fans. Bedford Falls native George Bailey longs to travel the world, go to college and particularly, never work at the family business again. But the death of his father, a blissful marriage to a hometown girl and the stock market crash conspire to keep George at the helm of the Bailey Building & Loan, a community banking institution focused on housing. George learns to love his life, but his happiness is jarred when hapless Uncle Billy loses the Building & Loan's Christmas Eve deposit, setting George up to take the fall for apparent embezzlement. Distraught, he contemplates suicide before an angel names Clarence treats him to a Christmas Carol-like review of what Bedford Falls would be without him.

The movie is sentimental, but in the best way possible. George Bailey isn't particularly precious; he's a man who puts his hopes and dreams aside not because he's an insufferable prig, but because when conditions change, his essential values don't afford him another option. And he's angry about it; George knows he's got a lot to be thankful for, even before Clarence shows him alternate-universe Bedford Falls, but he can never quite exorcise that undercurrent of anger at exactly how many times he's been asked, or simply expected, to put others' needs before his own. (Also, I'm a sucker for Jimmy Stewart; you'll never convince me that Kate made the right choice in "Philadelphia Story.")

There's a lot there, and that's why it wasn't until my third viewing that I really considered the movie's politics; particularly, that "It's a Wonderful Life" articulates a vision of capitalism focused on community, empathy and long-term outcomes.

It's a vision I wish we could emulate.

The capitalism of 'It's a Wonderful Life'

George understands that the family business needs to make money, but he's willing to forego hefty profits for community sustainability.

An altruist at heart, he argues that self-sufficiency makes for a strong economy; bottom-up investment, not trickle-down economics. Here's George's retort to the sinister Mr. Potter, a pre-epiphany Scrooge figure who views the bank's working-class customers as shiftless and lazy:

"Now, hold on, Mr. Potter. You're right when you say my father was no businessman. ... But he did help a few people get out of your slums, Mr. Potter. And what's wrong with that? ... Here, you're all businessmen here. Doesn't it make them better citizens? Doesn't it make them better customers? ... What'd you say just a minute ago? ... They had to wait and save their money before they even ought to think of a decent home. Wait! Wait for what? Until their children grow up and leave them? ... Do you know how long it takes a working man to save five thousand dollars? Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about ... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so."

Because George stays in Bedford Falls to run the Building & Loan, he ensures those customers can become homeowners, building equity and generational wealth. And, with the security of affordable housing, they're able to be better citizens. To help each other, a point that's proven in the movie's final scene.

George's sensibility is articulated again after the stock market crash, as the residents of Bedford Falls join in the run on banks. Potter is offering 50 cents on the dollar for the cash value of residents' deposits, a tempting prospect for some.

George convinces his customers to take short-term personal loans from him to tide them over, instead of withdrawing their deposits, which would cause the Building & Loan's failure and leave residents dependent on Potter for credit or to finance housing. Each takes less than they're owed, because that's the only way to keep the community whole.

It's not until late in the movie that we're shown exactly what Bedford Falls would have been like without George Bailey: Pottersville.

Without the the Bailey Building & Loan, Potter wields outsized influence. His is an uncompromising vision of profit over community. Pottersville's main street is a red-light district, nothing but neon lights and rowdy nightclubs. When the goal is to make money, vice pays, but with diminishing returns; it's hard to imagine Pottersville as a going concern 10 or 20 years down the road. An economy built on extraction, exploitation and short-term profits is not sustainable.

Back in the world of Bedford Falls, George's community building is rewarded. When Uncle Billy loses the deposit, Bedford Falls residents rush to make up the deficit.

What we should learn from George Bailey

Imagine if we'd applied the lessons of "It's a Wonderful Life" earlier in the tax foreclosure crisis, because I think we all agree now that a family living in a home has much greater value than recouping a few hundred or few thousand dollars in property tax, while a newly vacant home slides into dereliction to the detriment of the cohesion of neighborhoods, the city, the region and the state.

Or to the social safety net, which we too often persist in treating like a frill, not a necessity; there is no upside to hungry children, homeless families or impoverished seniors.

Or if we just stopped making the market our ultimate arbiter of value — judging the value of our country by downturns or gains — and believing that those who've beaten or gamed the system are more deserving.

Belief in the power of the individual is what makes America great. But our interpretation of that founding tenet has skewed; without a strong community, individual wealth or influence just isn't worth that much.

It's hard right now in this country. Like George Bailey, we've got a lot to be thankful for. But like George, we focus on what we don't have, and it makes us angry. We don't trust each other. We no longer believe that we want the same things, or that we hold the same values. We define our communities so precisely that we can readily exclude anyone we've deemed unworthy of our care.

We talk a lot about civility as an answer to our problems, but I believe the answer is empathy, a renewed belief in good will, the conviction that all of us want a strong nation and strong families, and faith in an American community that is more than a collection of individuals. 

So does "It's a Wonderful Life."

I wish I could tell each one of you what George tells the Building & Loan customers, and I wish everyone could really hear it: "Now, we can get through this thing all right. We've got to stick together, though. We've got to have faith in each other."

Nancy Kaffer is the editorial page editor of the Detroit Free Press. Contact: nkaffer@freepress.com.