### The Story of Thai Farm Workers in the October 7, 2023, Hamas Attack on Israel
In the early morning hours of October 7, 2023, Hamas militants launched a massive surprise assault on southern Israel, breaching the border fence with Gaza in multiple locations. What began as a barrage of thousands of rockets was followed by ground incursions involving gunmen on motorcycles, paragliders, and trucks. The attacks targeted civilian communities, including kibbutzim (collective farms) and agricultural sites near the border—areas where thousands of migrant workers from Thailand were employed. These Thai laborers, drawn to Israel by promises of steady wages far exceeding what they could earn at home, suddenly found themselves in the crosshairs of a conflict they had no part in. Their stories highlight the vulnerability of low-wage migrant workers, who were neither soldiers nor settlers but essential cogs in Israel's agricultural machine.
#### Why Were So Many Thai Workers There? Thailand has been Israel's largest source of foreign agricultural labor since a 2012 bilateral agreement eased visa processes for Thai migrants. Prior to the attacks, around 30,000 Thai men—mostly from impoverished rural regions in northeastern Thailand—worked on farms across Israel, with thousands stationed in high-risk border areas near Gaza. These workers, often in their 20s and 30s, picked crops like avocados, strawberries, pineapples, and peppers under grueling conditions: long hours in the heat, low pay (about $1,300 a month, or five times Thailand's average rural wage), and inadequate shelter from rocket threats. Many lived in basic barracks or trailers on remote kibbutzim, far from bomb shelters, and their remote locations made them easy targets when Hamas fighters stormed in. Families back home depended on their remittances for basics like food and education; one worker's wife described their dream of building a house as shattered in an instant.
It remains unclear if Thai workers were deliberately targeted—Hamas claimed the assault was against Israeli military and settlers—but their proximity to the border and lack of security made them collateral victims in a war not their own. Other Asian migrants, including Nepalese students and Filipino caregivers, suffered too, but Thais bore the brunt as the largest group.
#### The Horror of October 7: Attacks on the Farms As dawn broke, Hamas gunmen infiltrated kibbutzim like Alumim, Be'eri, and Nir Oz—agricultural havens turned killing fields. Thai workers, many off-duty and relaxing in shared quarters, had little chance. In Kibbutz Alumim, militants hurled grenades and fired into a shelter housing Thai farmhands and Nepalese students; 12 Thais and 10 Nepalis were slaughtered, while four Thais were dragged away captive. At a poultry farm near the border, 30-year-old Withawat Kunwong fought hand-to-hand with an attacker who slashed his throat, leaving him for dead in a pool of blood; he survived only by playing possum until rescuers arrived, his scars a lifelong reminder.
Elsewhere, workers like Ubon Namsan, 27, watched rockets streak overhead from his strawberry fields, initially dismissing the alerts as routine—Gaza barrages had been sporadic for months. But then came the gunfire. In one avocado grove, 26-year-old Kong Saelao was picking fruit when militants arrived; he was shot and killed, his last selfies amid green trees a heartbreaking contrast to the violence. Katchakon Pudtason, chased across dusty roads, took a bullet to the knee while fleeing on foot; his colleague remains in a coma from head wounds.
Families watched the chaos unfold in real-time via Facebook Live. Suntharee Saelee saw her husband Gong's posts from his day off at an avocado farm: rockets arcing toward distant cities, intercepted by Israel's Iron Dome. Then silence—he was among those kidnapped, his wife raging at Hamas for turning "innocent workers" into pawns. By day's end, the toll was staggering: at least 39 Thai workers killed (later revised to 46 including war-related deaths), 31 abducted (the second-largest foreign group after Israelis), and 19 injured. Hamas fighters even sabotaged irrigation systems, dooming crops in a calculated blow to Israel's "desert bloom" economy.
#### Kidnappings and the Agony of Uncertainty The abductions were brutal and opportunistic. Workers were bound, beaten, and herded into Gaza on makeshift vehicles, their fates unknown for weeks. Natthaporn On-kaew, a 26-year-old, was one of the first confirmed Thai hostages, his parents clutching his photo in despair. Families in Thailand, often in one-room homes with dirt floors, bombarded embassies with pleas but received little clarity—many couldn't even confirm if loved ones were dead or captive due to bureaucratic fog. One father learned of his son's kidnapping from a grainy video circulating online.
Of the 31 taken, 23 were released in phases: 17 in November 2023 during initial truce talks, and five more—Pongsak Thaenna, Sathian Suwannakham, Watchara Sriaoun, Bannawat Saethao, and Surasak Lamnao—on January 30, 2025, amid a fragile ceasefire. These men, farmhands from quiet villages, endured 15 months in tunnels and cells, emerging gaunt and traumatized to emotional reunions at Bangkok's airport. Two died in captivity, and one—Nattapong Pinta—remains missing as of early 2025. Their release wasn't tied to major deals but leveraged diplomatic pressure from Thailand, which condemned the attacks while aiding evacuations.
#### Aftermath: Exodus, Trauma, and Resilience The attacks triggered a mass exodus: over 7,000 Thai workers fled on government-chartered flights, leaving coffins draped in flags at Ben-Gurion Airport and farms crippled by labor shortages. Israel, expelling Palestinian laborers and losing Thais, scrambled for replacements from Sri Lanka and elsewhere, while offering bonuses to lure workers back—despite ongoing rocket fire.
Survivors like Jakkrit Noiphoothorn ("Thon") and Korawit Kaeokoed ("Kuay") returned to Alumim's fields in 2024, tending cowsheds amid nightmares: "It's always in my mind. No matter what I do, it won’t go away." Withawat, now home, touches his neck scars gingerly, vowing never to return. Advocacy groups decried the "business as usual" pressure on workers to resume amid peril, and Israel pledged more shelters and €4.7 million in border-area compensation.
Thailand provided 50,000 baht ($1,400) in aid per returnee, but the human cost lingers: shattered families, PTSD, and a stark reminder of migrant workers' invisibility in global conflicts. As one relative put it, "We have nothing to do with their war." By 2025, with a ceasefire in place, the released hostages began rebuilding, but the scars—of body and soul—endure.
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So what about Filipinos?
Again from Grok
### The Plight of Filipino Caregivers in the October 7, 2023, Hamas Attack on Israel
On October 7, 2023, Hamas militants breached Israel's border with Gaza in a coordinated assault, firing thousands of rockets and storming southern communities, including kibbutzim (collective farms) and residential areas. While the primary targets were Israeli civilians and military sites, the violence ensnared vulnerable migrant workers, including Filipino caregivers who formed the backbone of elderly and disabled care in the region. These women—predominantly from rural Philippines—had migrated to Israel seeking stable wages (around $1,500 monthly, triple what they earned at home) to support families through remittances. Stationed in border-adjacent kibbutzim like Be'eri, Nir Oz, and Nirim, they lived with their employers, often in modest homes lacking robust defenses. Their proximity to the Gaza envelope made them unintended casualties in a war zone, exposing the fragility of migrant labor in conflict areas. Unlike Thai farm workers, who faced mass killings in fields, Filipinos endured targeted home invasions, their loyalty to patients turning heroic acts into tragedies.
#### The Role and Vulnerabilities of Filipino Caregivers Israel hosts about 30,000 Filipinos, 90% as caregivers for the elderly, disabled, or infirm—roles formalized through bilateral agreements since 2013. These workers, mostly women aged 30-50, provide round-the-clock care: bathing, feeding, medicating, and emotional support. Many resided in southern kibbutzim, drawn by employer-provided housing and salaries that funded homes, education, and debts back in provinces like Pangasinan and Pampanga. However, their isolation—far from urban shelters in Tel Aviv or Haifa—left them exposed. Homes had basic safe rooms, but not all were fortified against armed intruders. Caregivers often prioritized patients over flight, bound by duty and contracts, only to face gunmen who viewed foreigners as collateral.
Initial chaos amplified fears: Families in the Philippines tracked loved ones via WhatsApp, only to encounter silence amid rocket sirens. The Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) and Department of Migrant Workers (DMW) scrambled to account for all, but unverified social media reports of kidnappings sowed panic. By October 8, over 2,000 Filipinos had marked themselves safe online, yet a "handful"—fewer than 10—remained untraced in the south.
#### The Attacks: Stories of Loyalty and Loss As militants rampaged through kibbutzim, caregivers sheltered with charges, barricading doors against AK-47 fire and grenades. Their decisions echoed a cultural ethos of "utang na loob" (debt of gratitude), but at fatal cost.
- **Angelyn Peralta Aguirre, 33, from Pangasinan**: A newlywed on her first contract, Angelyn had worked six years in Israel, sending money for her family's farm. On October 7, Hamas gunmen stormed her kibbutz home near Gaza. She refused to flee, staying with 73-year-old employer Nira—locking them in a safe room. Militants blasted through, killing both. Jerusalem Deputy Mayor Fleur Hassan-Nahoum hailed her "unimaginable honor in the face of evil," noting Angelyn's chance to escape but choice to protect. Her body was recovered days later; her husband learned via embassy calls, clutching her last voice note: "I love you."
- **Paul Vincent Castelvi, 42, from Pampanga**: A male caregiver (rare in the field), Paul planned a holiday surprise for his mother. At Kibbutz Nir Oz, he herded his elderly patient into a bomb shelter as gunmen approached. Shots rang out; both died in the barrage. His sister identified him via photos from community leaders. Paul, a father of three, had scrimped for his kids' tuition.
- **Loreta Villarin Alacre, 49, from Negros Occidental**: Loreta, a veteran caregiver, attended the Nova music festival near Kibbutz Re'im for a rare break—her first since arriving years prior. Hamas militants massacred 260 attendees; she was among them, shot fleeing the stage. Initially misidentified as a kibbutz worker, DNA confirmed her death on October 13. Her Cadiz City family, in a one-room home, mourned via Facebook tributes, her remittances their lifeline now severed.
- **Grace (Mary Grace) Prodigo-Cabrera, from an unspecified province**: The fourth confirmed victim, Grace died in her kibbutz residence during the incursion. Details emerged slowly; her sister Mary June repatriated her remains in November 2023. Like others, she embodied quiet sacrifice—caring for the vulnerable while far from her own.
These four were among six initially missing Filipinos; their deaths brought the toll to four by late October, all caregivers. One injured worker, shot in the arm, was treated and repatriated. No abductions were confirmed—unlike Thais, only one Filipino hostage overall, released in the 2023 ceasefire.
#### Aftermath: Grief, Repatriation, and Enduring Bonds News hit Philippine shores like aftershocks. Families in shanties and provinces gathered at DFA offices, demanding answers amid bureaucratic delays. Vigils in Manila's Christ the King Church and tributes at the Philippine Embassy drew crowds; on November 28, 2023, relatives of the four convened for a memorial, sharing photos and sobs. The DFA condemned the attacks as "barbaric," raising Israel to Alert Level 2, urging voluntary returns.
Over 100 Filipinos repatriated via chartered flights by November, debts (up to $3,500 for recruitment fees) chaining some to stay. Israel offered lifetime benefits to victims' kin—pensions, therapy, honors—declaring them "part of our family." Ambassador Ilan Fluss praised their heroism: "They run the lives of our elderly... full trust." A fifth death, a festival-goer, was verified in November, but caregivers bore the brunt.
Survivors like Lourdes Levi, a 20-year veteran in Tel Aviv, stayed despite sirens: "It's my duty—no one else to care for them." In Kibbutz Nirim, caregiver Camille (surname withheld) faced a gunman at the safe room window, pleading, "Take our money, not us." She hugged 95-year-old Nitza for 2.5 hours until rescuers came; both survived, her 1,500 shekels ($370) savings spared.
By November 2025, with ceasefires holding, repatriations continue—over 200 total. Families receive 200,000 pesos ($3,500) aid from OWWA, but trauma lingers: PTSD, lost breadwinners, shattered dreams. As one widow said, "She went for us, died for them." Their plight underscores migrant invisibility—heroes in hostels, footnotes in wars.
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