Snapp's FY1404: The Resilience Numbers

Iran in Context, No. 06. Every shock and response figure below is Snapp Group’s own, read directly from its FY1404 (2025–26) annual report, the first operational edition it has published since FY1401. The comparator is dated and carries its own confidence tier.

In the Iranian year 1404, Snapp’s super-app absorbed two separate armed conflicts and a nationwide internet shutdown, and still closed the year with more users, a larger share of its core market, and a bigger cumulative ride count than it started with. That is the actual story in its own annual report: not a crisis narrative, but an operations-continuity one, told in the same matter-of-fact register Snapp uses for its user-growth charts.

The scale before the shocks

Context first. By its own FY1404 count, Snapp’s super-app carries 90,265,313 registered accounts, logged 8.3 billion app opens in the year, and its ride-hailing arm alone has moved 7.96 billion trips since its 2018 trip-tracking baseline, across 751 cities and towns. This is the base a national-scale platform was operating from when the disruptions hit.

Two shocks in one year

Snapp’s own report structures 1404 around two distinct armed conflicts, a shorter one beginning around 13 June 2025 (23 Khordad 1404) and a longer, 39-day one later in the year, plus a separate nationwide internet disruption in Dey 1404 (around January 2026). Every one of Snapp’s nine subsidiaries reports the impact the same way: as a business-continuity event, with an order-volume number, a driver or merchant-activity number, and a support-response number. Tehran Index mirrors that framing here. No cause, policy or political dimension of either conflict is in scope for this page; the interest is purely operational, what happens to a platform this size when demand and supply both move sharply, twice, in one year.

What the company actually did

The response side of the report is unusually itemised for an Iranian company. Snapp put 10,000,000,000 toman into direct grants for 2,500 of its highest-trip drivers, waived commission for active drivers, and auto-extended two weeks of Snapp Pro subscription for drivers who kept working. It allocated 26,000,000,000 toman in free in-app advertising credit to affected restaurants and stores on SnappFood, and activated free SnappFood Pro for 450,000 users. It paid 3,515,000,000 toman in non-refundable assistance, up to 2,500,000 toman per person, to 37 users and drivers injured during trips, plus a free psychological-consultation offer nationwide through Snapp Doctor. It ran a 480,000,000-toman medication-delivery support plan through the second conflict, and refunded, in full, every cancelled booking held by Snapp Trip from its own funds rather than waiting on airline or hotel counterparties. None of this is disclosed as marketing; it sits in the same operational tables as delivery-speed records and support-call volumes.

How that compares to a global shock

The nearest thing the ride-hailing category has to a global stress test is not a war but a pandemic. When COVID-19 hit in the second quarter of 2020, Uber’s Mobility gross bookings fell 73% year-on-year in a single quarter, a decline so deep the company leaned entirely on its food-delivery business to survive, and it took until roughly April 2022, about two years, for Mobility gross bookings to climb back above their pre-pandemic 2019 level. Snapp’s worst-week declines in 1404, 25 to 60% depending on the service, are in a similar depth range but over a matter of days, not a quarter, and the recovery was measured in weeks: full-year FY1404 still closed with ride-hailing’s average trip-count market share up (88.7% in FY1403 to 89.9% in FY1404, peaking at 92.4%), registered accounts up 10.7%, and cumulative trips still compounding toward 7.96 billion since 2018. The honest caveats: Uber’s shock was a single global event with one clean before/after; Snapp faced two separate, differently-shaped disruptions in one year, so the comparison is directional, not a clean like-for-like. And not every metric came back untouched, Snapp Group’s headcount dipped slightly (8,784 to 8,728) and super-app opens fell about 3% year-on-year even as registered accounts grew, an honest, mixed picture rather than a straight-line recovery story.

Why it matters

Operational-risk data like this almost never exists in English for an Iranian private company, and rarely exists at all, in any language, at this level of per-vertical granularity. For an investor, insurer or corporate partner trying to underwrite exposure to Iran’s digital economy, the question is not whether disruption happens, it plainly does, but how a platform actually behaves when it does: does it disclose the damage, does it compensate the people who absorbed it, and does the underlying business still compound afterward. On Snapp’s own, self-published numbers, the answer to all three this year was yes. That is a genuinely useful, rare data point about operating a consumer platform in Iran, and it did not exist in any accessible form before this report. For the fuller picture of what Snapp actually is, see The Everything App, and for how its scale stacks up against Uber, DiDi and Careem on an ordinary comparison basis, see Snapp, in Global Context. The pullback in SnappPay’s discretionary-spend categories during the second conflict is also a direct data point for Iran’s BNPL market.

Snapp is one piece of the whole. For the big picture, see our field guide to Iran’s digital economy.