COLUMN: Phila. fires: the talking cure

From Michael Pereira's, "Vox", Fall '97 From Michael Pereira's, "Vox", Fall '97Mayor Ed Rendell is the custodian of this city's optimism, caretaker of currents that run deeper than his office. He is elected as both mouthpiece and conscience of Philadelphia, voice and signifier of a city. Among other things, his job is to put a good face on it when we have visitors. And so he did last April at the Presidents' Summit for America's Future, where he celebrated the promise of a new Philadelphia by way of welcome. "We have climbed out of a deep financial hole," he said. "We have a stunning level of new investment, the nation's best convention center, a booming downtown and a renewed sense of optimism." So credit for success does not always reach its proper destination. This is permissible -- so long as there is actual success. However problems enter when the matter of reality meets the anti-matter of political-speak. That is, when City Hall sees one thing and says another, when power gains the upper hand on politics and when the well-greased machinery of government begins to slip. Politicians then lose their lease on reality, dissonance and distrust loom large and the people, finally, change the channels of communication. "Does anybody know who's in charge here?" This was the submerged history behind last April's Presidents' Summit -- the rotting city behind the flag-draped stage. Here convened the big political cheese of the day, living presidents, presidential aspirants, middleweights in tenured posts. And here was born that selfless, self-evident commitment to children called "America's Promise -- The Alliance for Youth." Five "critical resources for a better life" emerged from the combined minds of Presidents Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush and Clinton, Gen. Colin Powell and all the kings' men and women. Young people need: 1) an ongoing relationship with a caring adult, 2) access to safe places after school, 3) a healthy start, 4) marketable skills and 5) opportunities to give back through service. The Promise dedicated itself to "connecting 2 million additional young people most in need to the above five fundamental resources, and an additional 5 million to at least one of the fundamental resources by the year 2000." With non-partisan, sincere-seeming oaths, participants at the Presidents' Summit (including corporations, service and volunteer organizations, educators, religious institutions, etc.) pledged to make good on the ideas discussed. Some even have. Larry Ellison of Oracle Corporation recently committed $100 million to K-12 education in support of America's Promise, and challenged every American CEO to meet or exceed his commitment. In a Q & A packet put out by its 35-member staff, America's Promise stipulates that official commitments "be quantifiable and measurable." In other words, they want money. They also suggest commitments "extend above and beyond any current or ongoing program." In other words, they want a lot of money. But not every contribution comes from deep pockets. Some are more modest, but just as necessary. One came in the form of the Philadelphia Summit held here at the University last Friday and Saturday. Billed to bring together "local business, community and government leaders to address the most pressing problems facing our area," the meeting seemed to anticipate the Presidents' Summit recast in parody: chinless bureaucrats in clip-on ties, canted hair pieces and halitosis. Sweating brass from City Hall and pie charts signifying nothing? But this round was not about votes and visibility. Instead, the Philadelphia Summit had a personal ethos and public goals. The summit consisted of various seminars connected by common threads: education, health, crime reduction, and volunteerism. Everyone at the summit had a stake in success, in the practical application of theory. In short, in personal initiative and what's paramount, communication. By limiting its ambitions, the summit achieved its goals; the real success was not a revolution in policy, but simply an opportunity for isolated groups to come together. Communication at the summit functioned as an antidote to paranoia, perhaps the greatest obstacle faced by Philadelphia's disparate elements. In times of crises -- real or perceived -- we retreat to small rooms and second-hand realities. Our knowledge is tenuous, and paranoia serves as a surrogate truth. This is where we become susceptible to political insinuation and the mythologies of media. Without the reality checks provided by the Philadelphia Summit and similar events, paranoia becomes a self-perpetuating system, vast and insidious, and ruthlessly divisive. It preys on a collective amnesia, which knows its identity only in memoriam, or from the indisputable bold-face of headlines. The Philadelphia Summit, though, was the embodiment of communication, the dawning of a genuine optimism. It was not an isolated event, but an ongoing idea -- a concerted movement away from that despair which can be a sickness unto death. It was about empowerment, about reclaiming imaginary homelands, about speaking up because the oppressor never bemoans oppression. The Philadelphia Summit pointed a finger in new directions. Now comes the real task: to suit the action to the word.