George Bailey, Mr. Potter, and noblesse oblige in It's a Wonderful Life.

Once upon a time, many of the rich and noble believed in noblesse oblige—the idea that they had a duty to care for society. They provided for the poor, treated employees decently (or pretended to), and avoided completely hollowing out the soul of the world for profit.

They were far from always noble or perfect. Manor lords gave jobs, if only to keep their estates running, but this kept their communities working. Aristocrats might toss a few coins to the poor to keep up appearances. Even today, the King hands out Maundy money. Social responsibility, however imperfect, was a value.

Even America’s robber barons practiced this (at least symbolically). Carnegie built libraries across the country. Vanderbilt founded a university. Say what you will about their motives, but they at least felt the need to give something back to the communities they profited from. Now today's billionaires run foundations that want to ban meat, give people weird vaccines, or turn your kids (and the frogs) gay.

Now, let's go to It’s a Wonderful Life. The movie gives us two archetypes: George Bailey and Mr. Potter. George is middle-class but raised with a sense of responsibility. Potter is rich and embodies the modern ethos of profit at all costs. Let’s break them down.

Potter is the prototype of today’s corporate overlord. He cares only about money. Venture capitalists would admire him. He’d strip-mine Bedford Falls, offshore jobs, and spike rents. He’d thrive in a world where drug addiction and despair follow economic collapse. Sound familiar, West Virginia? Who cares if you're so desperate you do meth if somebody gets a yacht.

In the "vision" portion of the film, Potter’s Bedford Falls is bleak—usury, seedy tenements, drunks, and exploitative slumlords. Immigrants? Serfs to exploit, not neighbors to uplift. He’d love illegal immigration and H1B visas as tools to boost profits, regardless of how they fracture communities.

George Bailey, in contrast, represents social responsibility. Raised by a father who saw his work as a calling, George’s family wasn’t wealthy, but they understood their role in helping others succeed. The Building & Loan made homeownership possible for the working class. He used his soft power for good while Potter used hard power to enrich himself, the consequences for everyone else be damned. He wanted to be loved (hence his willingness to destroy Uncle Billy, George, and the Building & Loan), but lacked the sense and humility to do it the real way.

George, like the best of his generation, sacrifices his dreams for his neighbors. This echoes the last real gasp of the British aristocracy. George's sense of duty echoes the British officers of WWI—men who gave everything for those they led, willingly joining the war as leaders, rather than shirking because they had the influence to avoid service. George’s father modeled this well: respected, comfortable, and committed to his community.

George learned well from his father and devoted himself to the community with admirable dedication. However, he lacked the resolve to make tough decisions. He could have appointed a more competent steward for the Building & Loan than his uncle and pursued his own dreams. With his many well-connected friends, George had opportunities to invest and build a better future for himself without abandoning Bedford Falls. While he was undoubtedly a good man, George's shortcomings lay in his limited imagination and reluctance to break free from the constraints he imposed on himself.

In reality, George often seems to embrace being beaten down and playing the role of everyone’s workhorse—a classic ISFJ trait. Uncle Billy, on the other hand, is an incompetent drunk who arguably deserves little sympathy for his repeated blunders. But giving the film the benefit of the doubt, let’s imagine George wises up. He makes smart investments with his well-connected friends, eventually takes over the bank when Potter dies in 1954, and becomes the town’s true benefactor. Following the trajectory of Jimmy Stewart’s other iconic roles, it’s easy to see George moving on to bigger things—perhaps even becoming a Senator.

What's the conclusion? We live in a global Pottersville today, where the callous rich only seem to care about getting richer. Those good, honest men who aren't bloodthirsty with ambition and greed don't rise to the top anymore. No, this isn't advocating for socialism or any of that crap, but a paen for a return to Christian charity and goodness. Men like George Bailey make the world a better place.