For Reza Khosravni, an Iranian businessman, these are trying times. Last month, the world was on the edge as Iran and Israel struck each other with missiles and bombs as concerns rose of a wider conflict. 

More than 900 people were killed in Iran, including civilians who became victims of Israeli air strikes on residential buildings. The bombs have gone silent and the fear of a nuclear fallout subsided. But Khosravni says the real damage has already started. 

“It feels like I’m watching history repeat itself, just with higher stakes and fewer lifelines,” he tells TRT World, speaking on the sidelines of a recent trade expo in Urumqi, China. 

Khosravni used an alias and requested his real identity is not disclosed to protect his business contacts. 

He’s head of his family’s trading and logistics business that depends on imports and using international payments systems. 

“The world sees missiles. We see broken partnerships, frozen goods, and shattered trust.”

He’s the third generation to run the company, inheriting a legacy of endurance through revolution, war, and sanctions. But even that hardened resilience is being tested by the latest escalation.

“My father ran the business during the Iran-Iraq war. I was a child then, but I remember the silence at the dinner table when news came of another trade route shut down, another container lost at sea. He once told me, ‘In wartime, your goods become hostages, and your partners become ghosts.’ I didn’t fully understand it then. I do now.”

Since the first wave of Israeli strikes on June 13, 2025, he has seen multiple international clients suspend their operations with his company, many of them long-term partners from Central Asia, Eastern Europe, and the Caucasus. 

“They’re not pulling out because they dislike us. They’re scared. Scared that even a whiff of association with Iran might lead to their assets being frozen or their business blacklisted.”

The impact has been swift and brutal. “Shipping insurance has exploded. What used to be a 1.2 percent war risk premium has jumped to 4.7 percent. That’s enough to kill margins entirely for small and medium-sized companies like ours.”

Banking has become a logistical nightmare. 

“Even before the war, international transfers were tough. Now, they’re almost impossible. SWIFT is a dead end. We’ve gone back to using hawala networks to keep operations going,” he says, referring to the informal payments system used in some Asian economies. 

“It’s like we’ve been flung back into the 1980s, only this time with digital surveillance and tighter restrictions.”

The fallout of the war is now showing up in his company’s hallways. 

“Some of our best young staff including people with international degrees are resigning. One of them told me recently, ‘I don’t see a future for trade here anymore.’ I didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong.”

Things on the logistics side are getting even worse. Delays are mounting. Trucks arriving from Türkiye face new inspections. Border crossings are choked with red tape and fear. Suppliers from China and India—once reliable and flexible—now demand full payment upfront before shipping anything. 

“Even at the height of the Trump-era sanctions, we never had this level of suspicion. It’s like the world has already decided we’re at war, and therefore not to be trusted.”

Warehouses are filling up with unsold inventory. A recent shipment of pomegranates destined for Germany was cancelled at the last moment. The reason? “Unforeseen geopolitical risk,” the buyer wrote.

Another deal involving copper wires bound for Syria was frozen, not due to logistics but because the bank of the purchasing firm refused to process any transaction involving an Iranian sender.

“This isn’t just about goods,” he explains. “It’s about people. About employees with families. About a network of farmers, drivers, and small businesses who depend on us. And yet none of us have had any say in what’s unfolding.”

What he finds most disheartening is the silence from the global community. “Everyone’s watching the missiles, the drone footage, the diplomatic standoffs. But who talks about the traders? The businesses that have spent decades building trust—now unravelled in days.”

He speaks of a recent conversation with a partner in Kazakhstan, someone he’s worked with for 15 years. “He called to say he had to pause all dealings. Not because he wanted to. But because his banks warned him not to process any Iran-related invoices. He sounded apologetic, even ashamed. I couldn’t blame him. But it still hurts.”

This isn’t the first time Iranian traders have had to adapt under pressure. During the Iran-Iraq war, his father resorted to barter: dates for auto parts, saffron for fuel. “Back then, we survived without money. Now, it feels like we’re surviving without hope.”

He recalls what his father said in the bleakest days of the 1980s: “Business is the first to suffer and the last to recover in war.”

Those words feel more relevant than ever.

“I don’t want pity. We’ve never asked for it. What we want is recognition—that behind every policy and every air strike, there are people like us who are trying, every day, to keep something alive.”

He pauses, then adds, “We build relationships, not missiles. But right now, it feels like the world doesn’t know the difference.”