Philadelphia's City Planning Issues: Education, Entertainment, and Commerce
Late into the 17th century, William Penn started out with an agenda to guide Philadelphia in the direction of an idyllic rural-city hybrid, maximizing space and structure in a grid-like fashion. Remnants of his technique are apparent in modern times, amid the clogged thoroughfares, old parks, and strained skeleton of a public transit system. However, herein lies proof of the best laid plans going to waste, as no singular idea in the realm of city planning goes untainted by multifaceted business and social interests. Philadelphia's history of innovation can be pitted against its questionable city planning in relation to its educational outlook and the commerce of entertainment. As deals and cuts are made, many city dwellers are left empty handed.
Philadelphia's Mayor Michael Nutter rose from an unlikely campaign, sensationalist in its success. Causing a stir comparable to President Elect Obama on a municipal scale, the Mayor is confronted with balancing a budget in a time of fiscal crisis not only within Philadelphia's borders, but in the surrounding country as well. In equal form, critics have surrounded Nutter's decisions, if not to outright protest them, then at least to question their long term impacts. With decisions made behind closed doors, the Mayor is handling the immediacy of the crisis by scaling back municipal services. While some of these reductions may be called for, as the city population itself is shrinking within it's larger scale municipal planning, particular scrutiny is given towards the questionably haphazard library closings. Reportedly, the main branch library, the first of its kind, is safe from recession planning, but what is to be said of the functionality of a metropolis without one? Independently funded polls have indicated a strong possibility that the majority of Philadelphians prefer to forgo incoming tax breaks, or even accept tax increases, in lieu of the conditional downsizing of municipal services, particularly educational ones. There is reason beyond doubt to assume the city hopes for privatized and localized funding to support the faltering library services, especially in closer knit communities, an attitude not wholly unfamiliar to arts in Philadelphia. Through this idealized assumption, a means of some alleviation for the city budget crisis is balanced by a potential exterior compromise to maintain neighborhood infrastructure.
Shifting focus, Philadelphia is populated by notoriously vicious home city fans of all four major sports teams (see: the Phillies 2008 World Championship citywide riot “celebrations”). However, this unwavering support is given to franchises that do not entirely reciprocate the brotherly love. In the far recesses of the city's southern border lies the multi-sports complex, the furthest toss possible from any significant commercial activity. Countless are the examples of disappointed business owners over the positioning and growth of this complex, which houses the main sports attractions the city and tri-state area have to offer. This clustering of gladiatorial property, so distanced from the actual confines of Philadelphia proper, may as well have been planned for some desolate spot elsewhere off of route 95. This localization is so detrimental to the benefits of the touristic draw and fan following connected to major sports franchises that it is both surprising and apropos that a localized privatized shopping center is under development within the confines of the sports complex. Surely, the dissatisfaction of business owners who would benefit from the major influx of consumers that sporting events garners is immeasurable. Increased business would yield a higher tax revenue and benefit the more important municipal services of the city, as has been proven in basic form in other cities, but it is far too late to uproot gigantic stadiums and relocate miles north into prime Philadelphia areas.
As a popularly cited addendum to this corralled commercialization, Temple University comes into recent focus. This is an institute significantly removed from much of the city's offerings in the first place, being located in the generally lower income residential sprawl of North Philadelphia. Recent developments around campus have proven to be nothing more than business as usual. In order to enclose the campus and encourage students to frequent university-leased places of business, shops and entertainment have been constructed within the invisible "safe" borders of the institution. It is ironic that an educational institution would provide a detriment to the wide scale business outlook of the city.
Photo provided courtesy Ray Skwire
There is another business outlook in particular that is highly controversial for many neighborhood associations. The potential sites along the Delaware River for casino development serve as a constant source of worry, a reminder of lessons hard learned from the economy and governance of Philadelphia's coastal and casino-laden sister, Atlantic City. So with this, along with the other privatized economic matters placed beyond the grasp of its citizens, Philadelphia brings a true challenge to the integrity of its inhabitants when pulled in the opposite direction by a reduction in municipal services. At a certain point it becomes unclear how the citizens should prosper in the near future, if not by government infrastructure and decidedly not by major commercial structure. No city, be it historical or biblical, has prevailed under this manifest, one lacking provisional outlook for its citizens.
Combing the focus of both the educational and commercial issues at hand, the Franklin Institute poses a unique threat to the consumption of public information and to how Philadelphia is perceived. A family orientated museum that more or less represents Philadelphia's take on accessible knowledge, the Franklin Institute stands as a magnetized attraction for school buses and oddity seekers alike. This is only increased by the prevalent usage of entertainment constructs within its museum presentations. In a society that arguably still mocks the value of education, we have come to a point where the mediated presentation of knowledge, or "edutainment", has trickled down to more longstanding resources of information. More specifically, the Franklin Institute has been host to a revolving door of voyeuristic "traveling shows" that roll in as part of the Science Museum Exhibit Collaborative. In order to satiate the appetite of a “reality show” generation, exhibits have all generally followed similar suit. Providing the human body for careful reflection itself is not the topic of concern. Rather, the presentational methods these exhibits have adopted forces one to question the audience's reactions. Although suitable and certainly frequented by the youth of today, the attractions have been popular and even acclaimed by their adult peers. The layperson's style of informative display is certainly unusual considering the seriousness of studying oneself, the human body, and history thereof.
These Franklin exhibits notably range from "Tutankhamen" with its mummified remains, to "Real Pirates" with a skeletal presentation as the clincher display, and most infamously "Body Worlds," whose dissected and reconstructed cadavers controversially lacked displayed proof of consent. Through these types of exhibits, the Franklin Institute reinvigorates the concept of traveling oddities, or “freak shows,” under the guise of educational review. There is little we could learn from a zoo filled with statutes of animals. Therefore, the amount which could be learned from the initial shock and awe of staring at the inanimate human form can be compared to the content of “reality shows.” Additionally, the questionable value of including commercial exhibits such as the recent "Star Wars" attraction could be extrapolated upon by another analysis. Informational content lost in stylistic form must be considered a threat to the greater pursuit of knowledge, as major establishments such as the Franklin Institute are claimed to be a wide educational boon to the city and its touristic footprint. Philadelphia claims the Franklin Institute as a construct of its own, wielding it as a distractional weapon against educational critiques, a purportedly shining example of a service to its people, while its municipal reality is far more grim than any exhibit.
City planning—physical and infrastructional—has rarely been a highlight for a fluctuating majority of Philadelphians after the days of William Penn, in a metropolis known to change in economic and social composition with practically every block. The city is tightening its municipal belt, with the quality of arts and education slipping into a downward spiral, while its wallet remains open to entertainment possibilities. Municipal services are diminishing, juxtaposed with a facade of healthy sports, edutainment, and commercial growth. In the midst of a nationwide economic downturn that has by no means has passed the city over, Philadelphia is still holding its collective breath. For now, the economic equilibrium of services and entertainment sways precariously in the cold breeze of the Delaware.
