Lessons from Bridge of Spies

I keep coming back to a scene from Bridge of Spies. It’s a small moment, but it’s stuck with me in a way that bigger, louder movie scenes never do.

Tom Hanks plays James B. Donovan, an insurance lawyer who gets pulled into defending Rudolf Abel, a Soviet spy, during the height of the Cold War. Nobody wants this case. The public hates Abel. Donovan’s own family faces threats. The government expects him to go through the motions of a defense without actually defending.

But Donovan takes the job seriously. He believes Abel deserves a proper defense, that due process matters even for enemies. Throughout the film, he’s constantly strategizing, worrying about outcomes, trying to control an increasingly complex situation.

Mark Rylance plays Rudolf Abel with this quiet dignity. He’s facing execution. He’s separated from everything he knows. The odds are completely stacked against him. And yet, he maintains this remarkable composure.

The Scene

At one point, Donovan asks Abel why he’s not worried. They’re talking about the trial, about Abel potentially being executed, about circumstances that would terrify most people.

Abel pauses, looks at him, and simply says: “Would it help?”

That’s it. Three words. And they contain an entire philosophy.

Two Different Approaches

The contrast between these two characters fascinates me.

Donovan is a doer. He’s an American lawyer, a problem-solver. When something’s wrong, you advocate, you strategize, you work the angles. You do something. His default response to difficulty is action, preparation, worry about how to fix what’s coming.

Abel is an accepter. Not in a defeated way, but in a clear-eyed assessment of reality. He’s looked at his situation and recognized what he can control (his dignity, his composure, how he spends his time) and what he can’t (the trial outcome, public opinion, the political winds). Worry doesn’t change anything about the facts, so why waste the energy?

This isn’t that Abel doesn’t care. It’s that he’s refusing to burn himself up over things he cannot change.

When Worry Is Useful (And When It’s Not)

I think about this a lot in my own work. I spend my days dealing with security systems, industrial protocols, troubleshooting problems across remote sites. There’s a lot that can go wrong. Networks fail. Equipment acts up. Communication breaks down.

And yeah, I worry. I plan. I try to anticipate problems before they happen. That’s part of the job.

But here’s what I’ve noticed: there’s a kind of worry that’s useful and a kind that just burns you out.

Useful worry is the kind that drives action. You’re concerned about a potential failure point, so you build in redundancy. You’re worried about a configuration, so you test it. You think through scenarios and prepare accordingly. That’s not worry—that’s planning.

Useless worry is anxiety about things you fundamentally cannot control or change. It’s the 2 AM spinning thoughts about outcomes that are already in motion. It’s the mental energy spent on “what if” scenarios that wouldn’t change even if you could see them coming.

Abel’s “Would it help?” serves as a filter for distinguishing differences.

The Question as a Tool

I’ve started using Abel’s question when I catch myself spiraling:

I’m worried about this decision at work.

• Would worrying about it help?
• Or would understanding the situation better help?
• Or would having a conversation help?
• Or would documenting my reasoning help?

If the answer is “none of those things would actually change the outcome,” then I’m just burning mental energy for nothing.

This doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I’m passive. It means I’m trying to direct my energy toward things I can actually influence.

What Donovan Learns

The beautiful thing about Bridge of Spies is that Abel’s philosophy eventually rubs off on Donovan. As the situation gets more complicated—prisoner exchanges, international negotiations, Cold War politics—Donovan starts to internalize some of Abel’s calm.

He doesn’t stop being a doer. He doesn’t stop advocating or strategizing. But he learns to carry the weight differently. He learns to focus his energy on what he can control and to let go of the rest.

There’s a grace in that.

Action Over Anxiety

I’ve been thinking about this in terms of another quote I came across recently: “I will not worry about what will happen, only what needs to be done.”

That’s the synthesis. It’s not Abel’s pure acceptance. It’s not Donovan’s initial anxiety-driven strategizing. It’s somewhere in between.

When faced with a difficult situation:

1. Assess what you can actually control
2. Do those things
3. Let go of the rest

Not because you don’t care, but because carrying anxiety about things you can’t change doesn’t help anyone—least of all you.

Would It Help?

So when I catch myself spinning on something—a work situation, a relationship dynamic, a decision that’s already been made, an outcome that’s out of my hands—I try to pause and ask Abel’s question:

Would worrying about this help?

Usually, the answer is no.

And if it wouldn’t help, then maybe I can redirect that energy toward something that would. Or maybe I can just let it go and paint something, like Abel did in his cell.

Because at the end of the day, we all face circumstances we can’t control. The question is whether we’re going to let those circumstances steal our peace, or whether we’re going to maintain our dignity and composure in the face of them.

Abel knew the answer.

I’m still learning.

Have you seen Bridge of Spies? Does the “Would it help?” question resonate with you? I’d love to hear how you think about worry vs. action in your own life.