Khaberni - On the sidewalks of cities, and between the expanses of roads that slice through the body of the nation like pulsating veins, the gap widens between what ought to be and what exists. Jordan's roads, designed to be bridges for life, have turned—due to neglect and lax discipline—into a silent bleeding arena that people do not see the beginning of, but everyone feels its bitterness when a new number enters the roll of victims, or when a window goes dark in a home that has lost a dear one. It is a war without noise, but it leaves wounds that time cannot heal, and it drains more of this nation's resources than wars that are declared.
In 2023 alone, the souls of 560 nationals ascended to their creator, and emergency rooms piled up with the pain of 16,469 injured. In 2024, the bleeding continued, though less severely, with the loss of 543 new souls and hospital records filling with 18,275 injuries, including 855 severe injuries that reshape the lives of their owners and weigh heavy on their families' hearts. These numbers—static as they may be—carry within them muted screams, and stories whose pulses stopped at a reckless moment of speed, or a distraction by a phone, or a reckless pass that sees nothing in the road but a power stance arena.
Between the loss of lives and the draining of emotions, the economy stands burdened by a hefty bill; the cost of accidents in 2024 alone reached about 958 million Jordanian dinars, while previous estimates indicate an average annual loss of roughly 350 million dinars. These are figures sufficient to build new universities, or advanced hospitals, or to update public transportation systems that match those of the world, yet today they bleed on the roads—where money is wasted treating wounds that could have been avoided if awareness had been raised, oversight tightened, and the will for reform united.
Amid this grim scene, a friend living in Europe tells me an eye-catching incident: He says he parked his car somewhere he thought was out of the security's sight, but when he returned, he found a ticket carefully placed on the front glass. Curiosity led him to repeat the act the next day, but this time he stood at a distance to observe. A group of students from the nearby school—young children at the dawn of their age—meticulously swept the area, detecting any traffic violation and documenting it like junior justices trained in their schools on respect for order and civil responsibility. It wasn't the police who caught him today; it was an entire "community culture" playing its role before the law.
My friend asks me sadly: When will we reach this level? When will order become a value that children are raised with before being held accountable as adults? When do we protect people from the ghost of the car, not by coercion, but by awareness?
And I say: We will arrive when we realize that the culture of the road does not start from the street, but from the school, and from home, and from the daily messages that are crafted in the consciousness of the child. When we understand that safety is not rigid measures, but ingrained behavior and deep conviction that life is more precious than any speeding wheel, and more valuable than any minute a driver wants to snatch hastily.
The cure for silent bleeding begins here: from an awareness that radiates in people's souls before it is written in texts of law, from an education that implants in generations respect for the road as it implants reading and writing, and from a state that sees protecting humans as not just a security duty but a civil and moral obligation. When the road becomes part of our value system, and when drivers realize that their driving is a responsibility not a showoff, and when the community unites to turn discipline into a daily habit—only then, this bleeding will recede, and the silence of death will turn into a voice for life.
Perhaps the most beautiful dream we have is that one day a Jordanian child will stand, like those in the European story, and say to those who violate:
"Not because the law commands… but because your life and the lives of others deserve respect."
Only then will we truly have begun to pave the way towards a Jordan without blood on the asphalt, without waste of life and money, and without a silent war spilt in the darkness.
