In front of a couple hundred who packed the Palumbo Rec Center recently, the young man blamed City Councilman Frank DiCicco and zoning chief Dave Auspitz. Here in South Philly, if something's crap, people say so.

"Brand-new housing," said the man to DiCicco and Auspitz, "and by next year, people living there will have to choose between heating their homes and feeding their families." Many of the neighbors, architects and urban planners grunted in anger. Many said that Philadelphia's urban landscape has become hostage to politicos. And with zoning reform, there'll be more unsustainable housing, and more instant slums.

The last time Philly revised its building rules in the early 1960s, oil was cheap and suburbia represented the ideal. But today, while cities like Chicago and Boston pass laws to ensure green and sustainable development, Philly has done almost nothing. We still build homes that gobble energy, and develop neighborhoods that depend on cars. New 30-story condos leave neighborhoods in shadows, while traffic jams our streets.

This is dirty development. It's what happens when lawyers become our architects, developers our urban planners, and politicians wield rubber stamps. It's nothing new. But as oil prices rise, new political forces are emerging.

Vern Anastasio, who convened this meeting, is gunning for DiCicco's seat in council. By fighting dirty development, Anastasio is building a significant power base, and his apparent success was scary enough to get DiCicco to appear before this unhappy bunch. I was also invited to a panel, along with William Reddish, head of the Building Industry Association, Shawn Rairigh, an urban planner from Fishtown, and Brett Feldman, a zoning lawyer.

DiCicco arrived an hour late. But as a warm-up act for the Councilman, the usually affable Auspitz had bombed, and some in the crowd seemed ready to hurl tomatoes along with their invective.

The zoning chief had tried to argue that if zoning were reformed, the community would no longer have a voice. A modern zoning code requires little input, Auspitz said, which meant that the community would have less opportunity to appear before his zoning board.

But this crowd wasn't buying Auspitz's line. "You mean you will no longer be playing architect," several shot back at Auspitz. "You mean you will no longer speak for me."

The zoning chief got scant support from others on the panel. Even builders hate the current system, said Reddish. Other cities have clear, modern zoning codes. But Philadelphia's code runs more than 600 pages, and that's not counting 40 years of exemptions, exceptions and amendments passed by City Council. In order to build, developers must bypass this morass by getting custom-made bills greased though Council. In practical terms, developers must work closely with councilmen. And this means that by the time a builder's plan comes before Auspitz, deals are already well in the making and the community is shut out.

"It's time for reform," I told the audience, "when we've got a system that both communities and developers hate." Turning to DiCicco and Auspitz, I added, "With all due respect, neither of you gentlemen are architects or urban planners."

"I agree with you entirely," answered DiCicco. "I'm not an urban planner, but I've been forced to be one. I end up spending half my time with development. I shouldn't be doing this. We need people who know what they're doing." Applause ensued, this being what what this crowd wanted to hear.

But is the councilman ready to advocate zoning reform, and to return power to the professionals in the City Planning Commission? Saying so, at least, would help him keep his seat.

But in fact, only Philadelphia's mayor has the real power to reform our approach to development. And that's something the current crop of mayoral wannabes must understand if they expect to get elected.

Meanwhile, we're still building crap, crap, crap. And threatening the next generation of homeowners, who can't afford what Frank DiCicco, Dave Auspitz and other politicos now build.