MACKINAC ISLAND -- If you've never attended the Detroit Regional Chamber of Commerce's annual policy conference on Mackinac Island, know that the first -- and overwhelming -- impression is the amazing crush of people.

This year's conference drew around 1,800 participants to the fantastically beautiful porch of the Grand Hotel. For three days I was one of them. The press of well-dressed people – talking, deal-making, business card exchanging, selling, buying and looking over shoulders for the next interesting person– was remarkable.

One friend called the event "a world class political mosh pit," but (fortunately) without the screaming teenagers a rock concert would bring.

Quite apart from the sessions, the Mackinac Conference is an extremely efficient way over three days to talk with a bunch of people you would normally have to wait three months to see -- and even then would never see all in the same place. Everybody has an agenda or two, of course. But if you let yourself be bounced around like a molecule in solution, you're sure to run into people you've been wanting to see forever and take a stab at getting your business done.

Well, I've now decompressed and recovered enough from the overdose of people, policy talk and flesh-pressing to clear my head -- and come up with a few --- hopefully useful -- insights.

Despite the intense socializing, the conference is meant to be serious business, with high-powered sessions devoted to finding solutions for statewide problems. And the overwhelming impression I took away from the island this year was the enormous gap between what the politicians bicker about and what the state really needs.

That disconnect was the most obvious Thursday, when House Speaker Andy Dillon (D-Redford) House Minority Leader Craig DeRoche (R-Novi), Senate Majority Leader Mike Bishop (R-Rochester) and Senate Minority Leader Buzz Thomas (D-Detroit) gathered to be interviewed by TV and radio personality Tim Skubick.

They were on the same stage -- but there was utterly no interaction. Each stood behind his designated podium, putting out their own spin on events, never coming together politically or even in body language. What they were bickering over was so trivial in a state so troubled! So full of insider baseball in a state where the unemployment rate is the highest in the nation, and most folks think the political system is pretty much broken. They argued over whether, for example, the legislation banning smoking in public places should or should not include the Detroit casinos. Puhleeze! In a state where our dominant industry is facing the worst times since the Great Depression, we’re spending our time and energy worrying about whether gamblers should be allowed to smoke in casinos!

They argued over whether the state should meet a capital outlay deadline from the feds. Evidently, federal law allocates to states a certain amount of money for airport construction, but the states have to file a plan with the Department of Transportation by a certain date in order to get the money. Republican legislators want to meet the deadline to get $165 million for airports alone, while Democrats wanted to add other construction projects.

Once again -- they are bickering over a deadline to get $165 million for a state whose budget is chronically and structurally out of balance, sometimes by a billion dollars or more.

When they got done worrying those bones, it was on to: Should a state constitutional amendment to provide health care for all be put on the ballot? Was it insulting to the House for the Senate to send a bill back? (Or was it insulting to the Senate for the House to send a bill back? Somehow I couldn't remember – or care.)

Would Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick be well received by Oakland County Executive L. Brooks Patterson?

Blah. Blah. Blah.

My first reaction was anger. But upon reflection, it's sadness. These leaders are able people. They work very, very hard. They ran for their offices with intending to do the right thing, to help a state in a terrible jam. But somehow, they’re found themselves trapped in a system that requires them to play tit for tat, and score political points rather than govern the state thoughtfully and seriously.
What‘s needed is planning for the long run.

Many of the programs at the conference were thoughtful, far-seeing, appropriate to the need for bipartisan common ground to get Michigan moving again. I sat on the opening panel with Lou Glazer, President of Michigan Future, Inc., and Paul Hillegonds, the near-legendary former Speaker of the House and now a senior VP at DTEnergy. Both were thoughtful, challenging, serious, responsible.

But in the back of the room, leaders of both political parties were cracking jokes, paying scant attention to the large measures at issue. As enablers of a dysfunctional political system that is serving millions of Michigan citizens very badly, they should be ashamed.

The unintended consequence of this year's Mackinac conference was to reveal in full and stark detail the yawning disconnect between what the politicians chatter about and what Michigan really needs. I’m sure that’s not what the organizers intended, but that's what emerged. And if you reflect a bit, it will tell you something very important about the state of our state today.

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Editor's Note: Former newspaper publisher and University of Michigan Regent Phil Power is a longtime observer of Michigan politics and economics, and a former chairman of the Michigan chapter of the Nature Conservancy. He is also the founder and president of The Center for Michigan, a centrist think-and-do tank which publishes the Michigan Scorecard. The opinions expressed here are Power's own and do not represent the official views of The Center. He welcomes your comments at ppower@thecenterformichigan.net.