The Iran war has killed at least two dozen foreign workers across the Gulf and in Israel, according to the Associated Press, and has thrown tens of millions of other migrants into a tightening vise of danger at work and destitution at home. Since fighting erupted in February, missile and drone strikes have hit labor camps and oil facilities, and the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz has sent fuel and food prices soaring across Asia — precisely where most of these workers send their earnings.
The conflict has exposed the vulnerabilities of a foreign labor force that makes up the majority of the population in many Gulf Arab states. Westerners, Arabs and Indians staff business and finance, while laborers from poor countries in Asia and Africa toil for long hours in scorching heat with few protections. “It’s a very precarious situation for migrant workers,” said Udaya Wagle, who studies labor and migration at Northern Arizona University.
The Coalition for Labor Justice for Migrants in the Gulf, an advocacy group, said few workers had access to bomb shelters and many were stranded when the fighting began. It counted at least 24 foreign workers killed in the Gulf and four in Israel as Iran and allied armed groups launched waves of strikes. Among them was Mohammad Abdullah Al Mamun, a 35‑year‑old Bangladeshi who had worked in Saudi Arabia for 15 years. He was saving to return home, build a larger house for his parents and finally spend time with his 6‑year‑old son, whom he had met only once.
On March 8, a missile struck Mamun’s camp in Saudi Arabia. He suffered severe burns and later died. “He never imagined he would be hurt. That a missile would fall on him,” said his younger brother, Maruf Hasain. Mamun’s family received his coffin earlier this month. “We don’t know what we will do next,” his widow, Sadia Islam Sarmin, said.
Low‑wage laborers like Mamun do the “most dirty, dangerous and difficult” jobs, said Shariful Islam Hasan of the Bangladeshi development organization BRAC. In Qatar, a 27‑year‑old Bangladeshi factory worker described working 12‑hour shifts as missiles flew overhead and shrapnel fell near his quarters. When alarms sounded, he said, workers crowded into a designated room. He earns less than $400 a month and sends two‑thirds home, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals. “We have no choice but to keep working,” he said.
Qatar enacted reforms before the 2022 World Cup, including partially dismantling a system that tied workers to their employers, but activists say abuses remain widespread and workers have few ways to seek justice. Ahmed al‑Aliyli, a taxi driver in Qatar, said his income has plunged from as much as $3,000 a month to a third of that since the war. He has not sent money home to his family in Egypt for two months. “We are the collateral damage of this war,” he said.
The economic blow is rippling across Asia. Remittances from Gulf workers make up about 1% of India’s gross domestic product, 3% to 5% in Bangladesh, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, and nearly 10% in Nepal. Now, as households strain and governments scramble for foreign currency to buy oil and gas, those earnings are more vital than ever. Yet many workers see no alternative to staying. Marlene Flores, a Filipina worker in Qatar, said she felt the shudder each time a missile was intercepted but considered the tax‑free pay and health insurance safer than the Philippines, which has declared a “national energy emergency.” “It’s not easy for me to say,” she admitted. “But I would really stay here.”
In Israel, Filipino caregiver Jeremiah Supan continued caring for his two elderly charges despite near‑daily missile alerts, dashing out for food and medicine even under fire. He wonders whether his own family could survive if he returned home. “I know that in the blink of an eye, one can die,” he said. “But what life shall we return to?”
Despite a fragile ceasefire in early April, negotiations to end the war have repeatedly stalled. Iran has effectively blocked the Strait of Hormuz, and the Gulf economies face a bleak outlook with exports bottled up and key energy facilities damaged. Hasan, of BRAC, warned that a slowdown in real estate and construction would hit migrant workers directly, especially those without fixed contracts. The labor coalition cautioned that some employers might use the conflict to withhold wages, deny leave or carry out arbitrary dismissals.
For Mamun’s family in Bangladesh, the war foreclosed any choice. His mother, Shahida Khatun, had urged him to come home. In his last call, he promised to pay for his siblings’ studies, build a larger house for his parents, and return for good this spring. Now his family is struggling to recover his wages and piece together a life without him. “The pain of losing a child. There are no words to describe the agony,” Khatun said.