The San Juanico Bridge is an iconic 2.16-kilometer architectural marvel that connects Leyte and Samar and apparently also connects the dots for some creative government spending.

The Department of Public Works and Highways announced on 19 May that the 50-year-old bridge will undergo a major rehab requiring a two-year closure. To divert the traffic, a new parallel bridge (funded by Japan) will first be built. The department cited wear on the approaches, though the main structure remains stable.

There’s been an uproar over its sudden closure and its eyebrow-raising repair budget of billions of pesos, which is obviously not an infrastructure issue but a masterclass in how not to convince the public.

Many Filipinos are as baffled as Tacloban City Mayor Alfred Romualdez over the sudden “rehab now, explain never” approach to the San Juanico Bridge. From out of nowhere it’s “Bridge unsafe! Three-ton limit! 48-hour notice.”

The kicker is that there was no feasibility study. It was just a casual, “Trust us, guys” from the powers-that-be paired with a repair estimate of ₱P300 to ₱P500 million, later increased to billions, that could fund a small city.

Even Senator Imee Marcos admitted she felt “very badly” about the situation, which, coming from a political veteran, is the equivalent of saying, “This smells fishier than a wet market.”

So what’s really going on?

Mayor Romualdez, who is a cousin of both the President and the House Speaker, in a rare moment of bipartisan confusion, asked questions every taxpayer wants answered: “Magkano ba talaga? Gaano katagal gagawin at kung may sira ba talaga? Medyo nalilito (ako) na something is going on na may corruption.”

Neither are we wrong to ask: “Who ordered the project? Where’s the damage assessment? Why the rush if the bridge has been ‘fine’ for years?”

Even former Energy Secretary Al Cusi, now Partido Demokratiko Pilipino vice chairperson, pointed out the obvious: “A quantity evaluation is crucial to prevent overspending.” He claims it’s an essential requirement in all government projects.

True enough, you can’t just throw billions of pesos at a problem and hope it sticks.

Mayor Alfred and former Sec Cusi’s concern isn’t bureaucratic nitpicking — it’s basic accountability.When you drop a multi-billion-peso project on people with zero transparency, you’re not fixing infrastructure; you’re writing a how-to guide for public distrust.

We get vague warnings about “heavy vehicles” and a “state of calamity” declaration that feels less like a disaster response and more like a magic trick.

Beyond the political circus in a country where “Where did the funds go?” is a recurring nightmare (PhilHealth, Maharlika, gold reserves, PDIC funds, etc.), silence is golden, especially when the alternative is accountability.

The real losers here are the Filipinos: commuters stuck in hours of purgatory traffic; businesses bleeding money from disrupted supply chains; and taxpayers footing the repair bill with zero clarity.

Whatever the case may be, accountability, in Philippine politics, is rarer than a pothole-free road.

When nothing is certain but death, taxes, and mysterious budgets, a little scrutiny will never hurt anyone.