Imagine this scenario. There’s a clear glass cookie jar loaded with chunky chocolate chip cookies in plain view sitting atop the kitchen table. There’s an 8-year-old in the room, but no mommy in sight. So what do you think this child’s next move will be? Pretty tempting, huh?

Now, before you answer to yourself, consider this: there’s nothing wrong with the concept of having the cookies in the jar, and there’s really nothing wrong with eating a cookie in general, but when the child reaches in the jar to take the cookie, he will no doubt get a stern reprimand should he be discovered. This child knows better than to take the cookie before dinner, but he tries anyway. Why? And what if, God forbid, the kid attempts to take more than just one cookie?

Okay, so I am loosely comparing cookies to wealth here, and my scenario is just a basic analogy about Capitalism—the subject of Michael Moore’s latest cinematic effort, Capitalism: A Love Story.  First of all, this was a very thought-provoking film. (See it at Civic’s 514 Theatre in Allentown). Moore’s empathy for those less fortunate is palpable. And what he is really trying to do is speak for those who feel they have no voice. The vignettes he offers to support his point are supposed to hit you straight in the gut and make you believe, like he does, that Capitalism is the root of all evil. Who wouldn’t feel badly that a Mid-western farmer is losing the land and home that has been in the family for four decades?

I propose, however, that it is not Capitalism, per se, that is the problem. It is more basic and actually simpler than that. Like the cookie jar, Capitalism unfortunately provides the platform for abuse because it is just so tempting to think about what you can “have.” It’s so good you can almost taste it. Once you mix the inherently flawed human dynamic with a concept that is really subject to the “honor system,” you are certainly heading for trouble.

So, is Moore saying that we should have the option to be a capitalist taken away from us entirely? Isn’t it too late for that? It is not too late, however, to hold those who compromise the honor system accountable for what they have done, and on those counts I totally agree with him. It’s time to at least, as Moore did in the film, back up the truck to the doorsteps of the financial institutions and the individuals there-in responsible—those who saw the clear cookie jar and thought to take all the cookies for themselves—and demand restitution. Back up the truck and see what we have reaped and vow to move forward with a more watchful eye.

After all, it’s just not fair to say, “Well, they made mistakes worth hundreds of millions of dollars, so let’s give them taxpayer money to help compensate for the losses, and then break the back of working class Americans by eliminating their jobs altogether to further help compensate for the cookie grabbers’ mistakes.” In my book, this was a reprehensible (and once again, short-sighted) solution.

I did walk away from the film re-thinking my value system and I am certain Mike would be happy to hear that. I consider myself fortunate that I have always had a healthy mistrust of anyone who says they have a “deal” for me; that I am educated enough to weigh all the options and read the fine print, and I, like Moore, wonder why the hell anyone would appoint a corporate CEO—of Goldman-Sachs no less—to the position of US Treasury Secretary.

Perhaps, they thought he couldn’t possibly want or need any more cookies?

See the movie. Think.