Under the banner of “digital transformation,” citizens have effectively become hostages of a private company that wields more control over their lives than the state itself. The result is a system stripped of transparency, fairness, and even basic logic – replaced instead by a legalized black market operating behind the scenes, while the government remains willfully absent.
Inkript is one of the most blatant examples of how a public institution can be hijacked and transformed into a private revenue stream. The company entered the Vehicle Registration Authority – al-Nafaa – under the banner of “digital progress and modernization.” But it did not stop at controlling the system; it also reached directly into the pocket of every Lebanese citizen.
What was once a state-run service is now little more than a branch of Inkript. The company manages the platforms, sells appointments, monopolizes stamps, and imposes extra fees on every procedure – all without scrutiny or accountability. Under the guise of “digital transformation,” citizens have become hostages of a private company that controls their fate more than the state itself. The result is a system stripped of transparency, justice, and even basic logic – replaced instead by a legalized black market operating behind the scenes, while the state either looks the other way or is complicit.
From the heart of this quagmire, sources inside al-Nafaa have shared with This is Beirut the full extent of what happens behind the scenes – from shocking revelations and systematic exploitation to incidents that implicate anyone who participates or remains silent. This is not merely administrative mismanagement; it is more accurately an alliance between official corruption and private monopoly – a burden that citizens bear daily in time, money, and dignity.
Everything begins with the online platform. According to sources, it goes live for just one minute – sometimes even less – before shutting down again, leaving thousands of citizens unable to access it. Ordinary citizens cannot secure a spot and are often forced to pay $20 to $30 to “professionals” who specialize in booking appointments. In fact, a black market has taken hold – much like the trade in smuggled fuel or medicine, and perhaps even more organized and audacious. Within the system, there are effectively two platforms: one for regular users, and another for authorized agents.
What Sets Them Apart?
The first functions like a queue in front of a narrow gate, while the second is reserved for well-connected individuals. Regular citizens have no way of accessing it and are forced to gamble with their time, work, and money. As a result, many teachers, managers, and small business owners report having to skip work or disrupt their businesses simply because they cannot secure an appointment.
The situation is even more problematic for older vehicles. Any car over thirty years old must be brought to the Dekouaneh center for a technical inspection and valuation. Despite having the necessary equipment and skilled staff, regional branches are not permitted to perform these procedures.
The Problem Runs Deeper…
The inspection committee at Dekouaneh is often composed of military personnel who lack the technical expertise required to assess vehicle value or determine their condition. Civilian staff with the necessary experience are inexplicably excluded from the process. Citizens traveling from Akkar, Baalbek, or Nabatiyeh are forced to bring their vehicles to the capital, incurring costs for fuel, mechanics, transport, and hours of waiting—all for a simple signature.
Furthermore, sources told This Is Beirut that even collecting the vehicle registration booklet—a procedure that should be routine—has become nearly impossible. After completing the inspection, citizens are required to book a separate appointment just to receive their booklet. Those unable to attend must arrange a notarized authorization and submit it to secure a proxy appointment. This is where the real exploitation occurs: between the authorization fees and the new booking, citizens can end up paying around $50 for a booklet they have already paid for. Ironically, this procedure did not exist before; it was effectively “invented” amid the administrative chaos that followed Inkript’s entry as a partner in the platform.
The situation is even more difficult for trucks running on diesel whose engines have been replaced. During technical inspections, these vehicles are frequently rejected on the grounds that the new engine is not registered with customs. At that point, citizens cannot proceed with the process, nor can they return to the previous step. As a result, neither al-Nafaa nor the customs administration provides a solution. Citizens are left in legal limbo, facing the daily risk of vehicle impoundment, fines, or detention – trapped between two unresponsive authorities. The fines are far from symbolic, ranging from $300 to $500, roughly equivalent to half a public employee’s monthly salary under normal circumstances.
Officially Approved Exploitation
All of the above pales in comparison to what sources describe as “the major scandal”: the annual sticker, affixed to the windshield to confirm payment of the vehicle inspection fee. Previously, it was issued free of charge upon payment. Today, it is sold for one million Lebanese pounds, monopolized by Inkript, which generates enormous profits. Even more concerning, citizens are required to purchase a new sticker with every transaction, even if one has already been bought for the same vehicle. In practice, the same person may end up buying two or three stickers for a single car in a single year. This is not merely an administrative violation – it is legalized plunder carried out with the administration’s implicit approval.
A Case That Sums It Up
A citizen registered his vehicle and paid both the inspection fee and the annual sticker. Two days later, he discovered an error in his registration booklet and returned to have it corrected. He was then asked to pay an additional one million Lebanese pounds for the stickers – effectively buying two within 48 hours. These practices amount to blatant, open exploitation, met with complete silence from the Ministry of Interior and oversight authorities.
Lebanese citizens are caught in a system that works against them: closed platforms that block access, employees demanding authorizations for every form, and a private company profiting with no accountability. Meanwhile, regional branches lack authority, staff lack the necessary tools, and citizens are left with no options.
Every transaction has become a profit opportunity, every form a revenue source, and every delay a tool of pressure. Inkript has effectively become a partner in decision-making: managing the platform, controlling citizens’ appointments, monopolizing the issuance of stickers, and generating profits at the public’s expense. Meanwhile, the state remains silent instead of holding anyone accountable, and rather than regulating, it is complicit in the exploitation.
The irony is that the solutions are simple and well-known: an open, transparent platform run by an independent government body; expanded authority for al-Nafaa branches in the regions; genuine digitalization that serves citizens rather than the company; and clear legal limits on stickers and associated fees. Yet these measures remain unimplemented—not because they are complex, but because those who profit from the chaos hold more power than those calling for reform.
This investigation exposes the darker side of a public service that should be a guaranteed right for every citizen. When services shift from a state obligation to a tool of extortion, and citizens become targets whose time and money are drained without accountability, digital platforms no longer facilitate access; they become barriers, separating those with means from those without.
According to sources, this public service has effectively been transformed into an illegal profit machine. Digital platforms have become traps for exploitation and monopoly, sending a stark message to citizens: the law is enforced only against the poor, while corruption operates unchecked. Worse still, those entrusted with protecting citizens’ rights are complicit in the abuse, placing themselves squarely on a list of national betrayal. Solutions exist and are straightforward, yet they remain blocked because those who profit from this farce wield more power than any call for reform.
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