If you have been following the news closely, you might have seen the latest statement from the Nigeria Police Force on tinted vehicle windows. The debate over tinted glass in Nigeria is not new; it is a story stretching back more than three decades, one that has sparked public mistrust, fears of abuse, and a bureaucratic tug of war between policy and practice.

The roots of this saga trace back to 1991, when the first formal restriction on tinted car windows was introduced during military rule. At the time, it was presented as a national security measure. Law enforcement argued that heavily tinted vehicles made it easier for criminals to operate without detection, making it harder for security agencies to identify suspects or monitor vehicle occupants during patrols and operations.

The rule was simple on paper: no tinted windows without express permission from the Inspector-General of Police. In practice, though, it quickly became a flashpoint for disputes between motorists and officers. Many Nigerians remember the era not for improved safety, but for frequent roadside stops where the permit, or lack of it, was used to justify prolonged questioning, intimidation, or demands for cash.

By the late 1990s and early 2000s, enforcement was inconsistent. Some people managed to get official permits, while others were told such permits did not exist. The result was confusion and, for many, the sense that the rule had become more of a bargaining tool than a genuine safety measure.

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From total ban to digital permit

In February 2024, the Police announced an overhaul. The total ban on tinted glass was lifted, and in its place came a digital permit system. The new process was meant to be transparent and easy: an online portal at possap.gov.ng, biometric verification to confirm identities, and a promise that everything could be tracked. Easy, or so people thought.

On the surface, it sounded like a step forward. Motorists could apply from anywhere, upload the required documents, and wait for approval. But The Guardian reported that there was also an official annual fee of ₦16,000 per car, something many motorists did not expect after hearing earlier claims that the process would be “free”.

Originally, enforcement was set for June 2025. That changed to August, and now to October 2, after reports of system failures, long queues at physical centres, and incomplete background checks. The Police insist the delay is to ensure no permits are granted to people with questionable records. Critics say it is a sign of poor preparation.

Glitches and frustrations on the road

In theory, this is about improving security. In reality, the experiences of vehicle owners suggest otherwise.

Lagos driver Simeon Emokpaire told The Guardian:

Getting to do the registration online was difficult; it took three weeks to register and make payment online. It failed several times… I had to part with ₦10,000 before they attended to me.

Others have spoken about repeated rejections despite entering the correct BVN and NIN details. On some days, the portal crashed entirely, wiping out progress and forcing applicants to start over.

Even those who eventually got the permit said the document did not stop checkpoint harassment. One motorist told a reporter that after showing his permit, an officer still kept him waiting until he “dropped something for the boys.”

For security, or establishing an (enviable) cash cow?

According to the National Bureau of Statistics, Nigeria has roughly 11.8 million registered vehicles. If each one paid the ₦16,000 fee, the policy could generate about ₦188.8 billion a year. Even if only half complied, that is a tantalising ₦94.4 billion in revenue, a figure hard to ignore.

The Police say the funds could help improve security operations. But motorists remain suspicious, pointing to allegations of unofficial payments, sometimes ₦10,000, sometimes ₦50,000, with no receipts or records. For them, it feels like the system is more about cash than crime prevention.

To many Nigerians, this is not just about car windows. It is a test of trust between the public and the Police.

A scheme meant to modernise and simplify the rules has, in the eyes of some, turned into another costly, time-consuming process. And with the deadline changing more than once, faith in the system is running low.

If the Police can speed up applications, keep the portal running smoothly, and crack down on roadside extortion, they might win back some credibility. If not, the tinted glass permit will likely be remembered as another failed reform, a good idea buried under bad execution.

As October 2 draws closer, motorists are watching closely. The next two months will decide whether this policy becomes a genuine security tool or just another tax on Nigerian road users.

Meiza Nigeria