In countries that respect public funds, major stories do not simply pass by unnoticed, nor do projects costing millions turn into a mere one- or two-day news cycle before the page is turned as if nothing ever happened. What was recently revealed by the Minister of Health, Dr. Ibrahim Al-Bdour, regarding the utilization of the field hospital adjacent to Prince Hamzah Hospital opens a wide door to questions that must not remain unanswered.
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This story is not just about expanding an emergency department or managing overcrowding. It goes far beyond that to a more critical question: How could a healthcare facility established under extraordinary circumstances, which cost the state treasury massive sums of money, remain outside the scope of optimal utilization all these years?
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the state operated under unprecedented pressure and made swift decisions dictated by the circumstances of that phase—this is both understandable and justifiable. However, what is difficult to comprehend is what happened after the crisis ended. Why was there no clear plan put in place to invest in these healthcare facilities? And why did these available resources remain dormant or limited in use while public hospitals were suffering from overcrowding, lack of space, and growing pressure on emergency services?
The paradox is that the solution the government is talking about today seems so basic and common-sense that it prompts us to ask: Where were the previous governments? Where were successive administrations? And where were the planning, follow-up, and evaluation committees?
What Jafar Hassan’s government is doing today does not just highlight a new opportunity to improve healthcare services; it also exposes the sheer magnitude of the breakdown in follow-up mechanisms within past governments and administrations. When a current government discovers that an existing facility can help solve a chronic crisis, the natural question becomes: Why was this potential not recognized years ago?
More dangerously, getting accustomed to such stories normalizes the squandering of opportunities. We are talking about facilities, buildings, equipment, operation and maintenance costs—public funds paid by Jordanians from their taxes. Yet, we deal with the issue as if it were a minor administrative detail unworthy of scrutiny.
What is required today is not merely making use of the field hospital—for that is a basic and obvious duty. Rather, what is needed is a comprehensive review of what occurred. Who made the decisions? Who followed up on the implementation? Who evaluated the feasibility of continuing or halting operations? And who bears the responsibility for keeping these capabilities outside the cycle of optimal use throughout this entire period?
Accountability is not about seeking revenge; it is about protecting public funds and preventing the repetition of mistakes. A state that questions how every single Dinar is spent is a state capable of building trust with its citizens. Conversely, a state that settles for addressing a problem without probing its root causes leaves the door wide open for it to happen again in the future.
Today, the government deserves praise for turning its attention to a file that had fallen off the priority list. However, praise is not enough. What Jordanians need more is to know how things reached this point in the first place, and who is responsible for the lost years—years in which opportunities could have alleviated pressure on the healthcare sector and saved additional funds for the treasury.
Public money is not fleeting news, and the millions spent are not just numbers in old reports. It is a public trust that demands review, accountability, and absolute transparency.
