Iran has been hit by a massive wave of redundancies, both directly and indirectly as a result of the conflict with the US and Israel. Its Deputy Work and Social Security Minister, Gholamhossein Mohammadi, stated that two million people have lost their jobs because of the war. The widespread layoffs have become a significant topic of discussion among ordinary Iranians on social media, with employers and government officials referring to them euphemistically as 'balancing the workforce'.
The impact of the conflict goes beyond factories closed due to direct air strikes; it also affects a variety of sectors including retail, import and export businesses, and the burgeoning digital sector.
Social media users note the visible signs of economic decline, such as emptier metro systems and reduced traffic on major highways, reflecting the decline in consumer activity. The war has also led to a downturn in spending on non-essential goods, adversely affecting sectors like tourism and dining.
Additionally, the Iranian government’s decision to impose an internet blackout since the beginning of the war is testing the resilience of the country’s digital economy. Officials claim this decision is for national security reasons, aimed at preventing espionage and cyber-attacks; however, the blackout is stifling small businesses and online commerce, which many women previously relied on for income. Iran's Information and Communication Technology Minister mentioned that the economic losses from the daily internet blackout amount to a staggering $35 million.
The job losses are further compounded by strikes on key industries like petrochemicals and steel manufacturing, leading to cascading layoffs across the supply chain. For instance, workers in the automotive sector, which employs an estimated one million people directly or indirectly, are already experiencing layoffs. The disruption in the Strait of Hormuz is causing factories to halt operations due to the inability to receive essential materials, resulting in a broader economic downturn.
The Iranian government has initiated a loan program for small businesses amid rising unemployment; however, the terms are harsh, with high-interest rates threatening the fragile economic stability. As inflation surpasses 50%, many experts warn that the situation could worsen if hostilities continue or sanctions remain in place. The ongoing conflict poses an existential threat to millions of Iranians struggling under the weight of unemployment and soaring prices.
The impact of the conflict goes beyond factories closed due to direct air strikes; it also affects a variety of sectors including retail, import and export businesses, and the burgeoning digital sector.
Social media users note the visible signs of economic decline, such as emptier metro systems and reduced traffic on major highways, reflecting the decline in consumer activity. The war has also led to a downturn in spending on non-essential goods, adversely affecting sectors like tourism and dining.
Additionally, the Iranian government’s decision to impose an internet blackout since the beginning of the war is testing the resilience of the country’s digital economy. Officials claim this decision is for national security reasons, aimed at preventing espionage and cyber-attacks; however, the blackout is stifling small businesses and online commerce, which many women previously relied on for income. Iran's Information and Communication Technology Minister mentioned that the economic losses from the daily internet blackout amount to a staggering $35 million.
The job losses are further compounded by strikes on key industries like petrochemicals and steel manufacturing, leading to cascading layoffs across the supply chain. For instance, workers in the automotive sector, which employs an estimated one million people directly or indirectly, are already experiencing layoffs. The disruption in the Strait of Hormuz is causing factories to halt operations due to the inability to receive essential materials, resulting in a broader economic downturn.
The Iranian government has initiated a loan program for small businesses amid rising unemployment; however, the terms are harsh, with high-interest rates threatening the fragile economic stability. As inflation surpasses 50%, many experts warn that the situation could worsen if hostilities continue or sanctions remain in place. The ongoing conflict poses an existential threat to millions of Iranians struggling under the weight of unemployment and soaring prices.
![Caterers, Countless Lives: Detroit Chef's Food Feeds Lebanon's War‑Torn Families","description":"In the suburbs of Dearborn Heights, a 47‑year‑old Lebanese chef turns her catering profits into lifelines for over a million displaced from Lebanon, illustrating how U.S. diaspora communities bridge crises from afar.","summary":"When war in southern Lebanon breaks out, hundreds of thousands flee to neighboring Israel and the United States. Amid rising costs, Mirvet Makki—Detroit‑based caterer—sets aside a portion of her earnings each week to sponsor families back home. Her culinary endeavor, which serves soured couscous stews and savory kibbeh, becomes a quiet lifeline for a nation in economic crisis. The problem mirrors a larger diaspora trend: U.S. Lebanese communities fund relief, rally politically, and keep cultural bonds alive, even as they watch conflict unfold from afar.","image":"https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1588097834006-0edc6c69d944?auto=format&fit=crop&w=640&q=80","text":"<p>In the Detroit suburb of Dearborn Heights, 47‑year‑old Mirvet Makki punches kitchen knives and pushes trays of fragrant Lebanese dishes, the same dishes that stir memories of her childhood village in Bint Jbeil. When the devastating war between Israel and Hezbollah dragged thousands of civilians into tent cities, a wave of refugees hit Lebanon’s southern coast—and the Lebanese diaspora in America felt a pull they could not ignore.</p><p>Every week, Makki allocates a slice of her catering profits to families in Lebanon devastated by aerial bombardments and land mines. She says the money is not a charitable donation in the truest sense. Rather, it is a trans‑national family budget trickle that keeps aunts and cousins fed while they await a return that may never happen. The funds travel across borders to a people whose homes have been reduced to rubble.</p><p>Lebanon’s displacement crisis has reached a scale previously thought unlikely: more than one million of the 6‑million‑strong population—roughly one in six—have fled their homes. The economic damage is brutal and the currency has weakened to the point that the U.S. dollar circulates in many rural markets. Food cost, fuel availability, and basic utilities have all collapsed, leaving communities hungry and desperate.</p><p>“I was thinking, ‘What can I do for other people?’” Makki says. “So I used my business.” She maintains a strict budget, limiting personal overhead to spare enough money for her sisters, nephews, and a small handful of friends who live in the most affected regions.</p><p>Many Lebanese Americans—some of them in the U.S. since the late 1800s—have become the de facto financial lifeline for Lebanon. According to the last census, roughly 625,000 Lebanese‑American residents live in the United States now, though many estimates claim the number could be as high as 1.4 million. Secretary‑General António Guterres shook hands with families in South Lebanon while speaking in Nairobi, underscoring how diaspora remittances are crucial to the country's survival.</p><p>Christians, Sunni and Shiite Muslims, and smaller Druze communities in Lebanon face distinct hardships, but their U.S. cousins unite over common concerns. When the U.S. voted to provide war aid to Israel, a wave of Lebanese Americans gathered around the “uncommitted movement” to protest, and the community also rallied to condemn a Michigan synagogue shooting. These political coalitions share a single aim: to be the voice and the hand for those who cannot lift themselves.</p><p>“When they see suffering in Lebanon, people’s immediate reaction … is for the community to come together, raise funds, raise money, and try to help everybody as much as they can,” says Akram Khater, director of Lebanese Diaspora Studies at North Carolina State University. “Most rely on one another – they are not looking to Washington for the furniture to rebuild.”</p><p>In February, Makki visited her homeland. She saw how the price of living had skyrocketed: a car rental that once cost $200 would now be a luxury. She felt the loss firsthand in a small roadside food stall that had dwindled to a single dish. That trip cemented her determination to channel her income back to Lebanon.</p><p>Some Americans are moving beyond bank transfers; they meet with families on video calls and, when possible, travel to Lebanon themselves to deliver goods or give a hands‑on hand. Nadia Bryant, a 37‑year‑old mother of Troy, Michigan, sends money to her sisters in temporary housing after their village of Ayta ash‑Shab was invaded. “They donated in direct form to orphans,” she says. “They do not even ask to put the money toward their own betterment.”</p><p>While the U.S. still cannot process immigrant visas for Lebanese nationals due to congressional stand‑by, many families despair. Attoui, a Detroit‑based fundraiser, has urged her relatives to immigrate. They are unwilling. “I have all my aunts and my cousins over there,” Attoui says. “So if you could bring [people] here, that would be a relief.”</p><p>Despite the personal losses and cultural distance, the Lebanese diaspora in the U.S. remains fiercely alive. They keep the poise of their homeland, raise money, and stand together in protest. As the war stretches on, the warmth of a pot of stew and the generosity of a family’s earnings become a quiet, daily rebellion against impossible hunger.</p>](/m/d1/2a/d12a9a3593712ff0281d85ddca1a552c8f027c57cb44d7ac67e0241a3bd37d9d/o.webp)
