ISTANBUL — Rasoul had a plan for the worst-case scenario. A 42-year-old engineer in Tehran with a steady job at a tech company, he often reassured his wife about their financial security. If times ever got truly tough, he would tell her, he could always drive for Snapp — Iran’s local ride-sharing equivalent to Uber.
Then the war hit, and the worst-case scenario arrived.
Since the United States and Israel attacked Iran over six months ago, ordinary Iranians have borne the brunt of a collapsing economy. Inflation has skyrocketed, driving up the costs of gas, food, and rent. Livelihoods across the country are unraveling, forcing many to borrow just to survive and put major life milestones on hold.
While the official unemployment rate in Iran sits at 9%, independent analysts say the true figure is significantly higher. The desperation for work is palpable: Jobvision, a prominent Iranian job-seeking portal, reported a 50% spike in resume submissions in late April alone.
Even state-sanctioned labor leaders acknowledge the depth of the crisis. In May, Alireza Mahjoob, head of Iran’s Workers House — the country’s primary labor organization — admitted on state television that joblessness was far worse than anticipated.
“We don’t know how much it will afflict our already fragile working class, leaving us all helpless and powerless,” Mahjoob said.
Disrupted networks and shut down transit
For Rasoul, the decline was swift. In January, during a brutal government crackdown on protests, Iranian authorities severely restricted internet access to cut off communication with the outside world.
Because his company depended on worldwide networks that were cut off by the regime, the disruptions severely damaged his company’s delivery services.
“The company’s situation got really bad,” Rasoul said. “They were losing customers one by one.”
By mid-February, he was laid off, triggering a period of severe depression. Like all Iranians interviewed for this report, he spoke on the condition that his full name be withheld out of fear of government retribution.
Desperate to pay his bills, Rasoul reluctantly turned to his backup plan and began driving for Snapp at night.
“I remember being extremely anxious — accepting a ride, waiting, having the passenger get in, and so on,” he recalled.
The strategy failed. The U.S. and Israel launched a war against Iran at the end of February, and ever-tighter U.S. sanctions and a naval blockade of the Strait of Hormuz led to rising fuel prices, and costly vehicle repairs quickly ate into his meager earnings. Ongoing U.S. airstrikes made navigating the streets at night far too dangerous. Eventually, he had to rely on extended family to stay afloat. Personal plans, including starting a family, have been completely shelved.
“I thought that after marriage I could keep working and traveling, going places together,” Rasoul said. “But since we got married, nothing.”
Other industries have faced complete collapse due to supply chain blockades and regional instability. Kayvan, a 42-year-old materials engineer from Tehran, helped a Chinese firm establish a business supplying raw materials to Iran’s vital oil sector.
When fighting escalated, the maritime trade came to a halt.
“The environment became so unsafe,” Kayvan said. “Transit routes and shipping routes were shut down, the Strait of Hormuz was closed, sea transport became impossible.”
With clients unable to place orders, the business collapsed.
“It was like those American movies where people dump their belongings into a box and clear out their desk,” Kayvan said about the day he had to leave his job.
“Passengers on a train”
To survive the job loss, Kayvan’s family relied entirely on his wife’s income and rapidly dwindling personal savings—a cushion eroding fast against extreme economic headwinds.
“Terrifying inflation, unprecedented price hikes… we’ve genuinely never experienced days like these before,” Kayvan said, adding that the conflict simply needs to stop. “We’re all just falling apart.”
For some, temporary relief has come, though it offers little peace of mind. In July, Rasoul managed to secure a new role as a sales manager. Yet with the conflict continuing and the broader economy in freefall, stability feels like an illusion.
“We’re like passengers on a train,” Rasoul said. “We don’t know if the bridge ahead is broken or intact.”
Transcript:
SCOTT DETROW, HOST:
Unemployment is skyrocketing in Iran as the war with the United States drags on. People are losing jobs and livelihoods as inflation soars, with many saying they are not just having to borrow to make ends meet but are putting life on hold. From Istanbul, NPR spoke with Iranians, and international correspondent Hadeel Al-Shalchi shares their stories.
HADEEL AL-SHALCHI, BYLINE: Rasoul (ph), a 42-year-old engineer in Tehran, had a good job at a tech company. He felt economically secure until the war hit. Then he started worrying.
RASOUL: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “I always used to tell my wife, if worst comes to worst, I’ll just drive for Snapp!,” he says. That’s a ride-sharing app, the Iranian equivalent to Uber, that uses a local cellular network totally under the regime’s control. The day Rasoul feared eventually came. Like all Iranians NPR spoke to for this report, Rasoul asked not to use his full name for fear of retribution from the government. In January, Iranian authorities cut the internet network people used to communicate with the outside world during a brutal crackdown on protests. The disruption damaged his company’s delivery service.
RASOUL: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “The company’s situation got really bad,” Rasoul says. “They were losing customers one by one.” He eventually lost his job in mid-February.
RASOUL: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “I was going through a period of severe depression,” Rasoul says. It’s been more than six months since the U.S. and Israel went to war in Iran, and Iranians have had to bear the brunt of the consequences. There are rising gas prices, rising food prices, rising rent prices and a rise in unemployment. Rasoul struggled to pay living expenses and could barely afford rent, and it took a toll mentally. To survive, he reluctantly tried driving for Snapp! at night.
RASOUL: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “I remember being extremely anxious accepting a ride, waiting, having the passenger to get in and so on,” Rasoul says. But with gas prices and car repairs, it quickly got too expensive, and the U.S.-Israeli strikes made it too dangerous to keep driving for Snapp!. He leaned on his family to make ends meet and says, at this point, even having kids is out of the question.
RASOUL: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “I thought that after marriage, I could keep working and traveling, going places together. But since we got married, nothing,” he says. Rasoul officially joined the ranks of Iran’s growing unemployed. The official unemployment rate in Iran is 9%, but analysts say the real number is likely much higher. The demand for work is so high that the Iranian job-seeking website, Job Vision, said on April 25, it saw a 50% bump in resume submissions.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)
ALIREZA MAHJOUB: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: Alireza Mahjoub is the head of Iran’s Workers (ph) House, the country’s main labor organization. In a TV interview on state media in May, he said unemployment numbers were way worse than he expected.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)
MAHJOUB: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “We don’t know how much it will afflict our already fragile working class, leaving us all helpless and powerless,” Mahjoub said.
Kayvan (ph) knows the helplessness all too well. He’s a 42-year-old materials engineer from Tehran. He helped a Chinese company start a business specializing in raw materials for the oil sector. But then the war started.
KAYVAN: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “The environment became so unsafe. Transit routes and shipping routes were shut down. The Strait of Hormuz was closed. Sea transport became impossible,” Kayvan says. Clients stopped placing orders, and eventually, his company had to shut down. He says losing his job was tough.
KAYVAN: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “It was like those American movies where people dump their belongings into a box and clear out their desk,” Kayvan says. He says his family relied on his wife’s income and dipped into their personal savings.
KAYVAN: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “Terrifying inflation, unprecedented price hikes – we’ve genuinely never experienced days like these before,” he says. Right now, Kayvan just wants the war to end.
KAYVAN: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “We’re all just falling apart,” he says.
Former Snapp! driver Rasoul was able to finally find a job in July as a sales manager, but even that is shaky.
RASOUL: (Non-English language spoken).
AL-SHALCHI: “We’re like passengers on a train,” he says. “We don’t know if the bridge ahead is broken or intact.” Hadeel Al-Shalchi, NPR News, Istanbul.
