A Russian shopkeeper, left, helps a customer in a south Tel Aviv shop catering to foreigners living in Israel. The crackdown on foreign workers has spurred an outcry from upper-class Israelis who rely on their services

"You need to send the foreigners home," declares a balding man perched on the edge of his wife's chair. "They're taking jobs away from Israelis."

"You're wrong," counters a man sporting a baseball cap. "They're doing jobs the Palestinians used to do. You won't find many Israelis willing to clean toilets or work on a construction site."

"I don't know what I'm going to do if George gets picked up," says a woman in a see-through cover-up that matches her bathing suit. "He's the best house cleaner I've ever had."

"Never mind house cleaners," chimes in a thin woman who appears to be in her late 50s. "My mother has Alzheimer's and we hired a fantastic Filipina to live with her. The helper has a valid visa; we saw to that. But what happens when the visa expires? Without live-in help mother can't stay at home, and we can't afford a good nursing home," the daughter says, panic in her voice.

This loud, often-heated discussion among old friends was sparked by the government's newfound determination to expel tens of thousands of Africans, Asians and others who are working in the country illegally. An estimated 60 percent of Israel's 300,000 foreign workers have neither a current visa nor a work permit.

The fact that the government is finally following through on its longstanding threat to round up, imprison and ultimately deport illegal workers has spurred an outcry from Israeli and foreign humanitarian organizations, and from many middle-class and upper-class Israelis who rely on their services.

The move comes at a time when nearly 11 percent of Israel's citizens are unemployed and the country is mired in a grave recession.

Advocates for Israel's homegrown labor force admit that foreign workers have a place in the economy, but only a limited one.

"Employing foreign workers in the south of the country won't reduce unemployment in Tel Aviv," says Avinoam Magen, spokesman for the Histadrut, the country's largest and most powerful labor union. The problem, according to Magen, is that the foreign workers demand lower wages than Israeli counterparts and work six days a week.

"This isn't occurring in a vacuum. The government brings them over after caving in to pressure from certain interest groups," Magen says of various industries, such as building and agriculture. "They pay [the foreigners] very little and don't provide them with any rights. The government needs to demand that foreign workers be paid the minimum wage and receive the same benefits as Israeli workers.

"Once this happens, the employers will no longer have any motivation to bring workers from abroad," he says.

While people here disagree over whether or not the workers should in fact be deported, and if so, how many, few dispute the fact that the foreigners are suffering.

According to Shevy Korzen from the Hotline for Migrant Workers, for the past few months between 2,000 and 2,500 workers have been arrested and deported on a monthly basis.

"Police are raiding homes in the middle of the night, very often breaking down their doors, chasing them into the streets," Korzen says. "We know workers are being taken off buses. The immigration police look for people who look different, especially if they're black."

Since the roundups began, she says, "people go to work and then right back home. Many are afraid to take buses, so they carpool in taxis. People are afraid to go to church."

At the start of the summer, the government launched a campaign to encourage illegal workers to leave voluntarily. Assuming a worker signed up prior to Aug. 1, the offer read, workers would have until Oct. 1 to "avoid arrest and humiliation" and "to settle their affairs" in Israel.

Although the immigration authorities vowed to begin arresting children of the illegal workers after the Oct. 1 deadline, "they haven't done that yet," Korzen says.

She says that hundreds of families already have taken the government up on their offer and departed.

"Most of those who left were here illegally from the beginning," Korzen says. "They came as tourists from places like Ghana and never left. They've been earning more and have had better working conditions than those who came here legally. They were free to move from one job to another, and they've been able to keep their passports."

Those who arrived in Israel legally, but for various reasons are now considered illegals, are the ones in dire straits, Korzen says.

In contrast to the policy of most other nations, Korzen explains, "the Israeli government stipulates that migrant workers are bound to employers. The visa is in the name of the employer, and this means that if an employee leaves an employer because he hasn't been paid his wages, if his passport has been confiscated, or he's been abused by his employer, he immediately becomes an illegal resident."

Korzen is clearly irked by the term the immigration authorities use to describe a worker who has left his sponsoring employer.

"They're called 'runaways,' like runaway slaves. These are the ones who are mostly being deported," she says.

What's sad, Korzen says, is that these workers paid between $5,000 and $15,000 [to employment agencies and for visas] for the right to work in Israel, "and found no jobs when they arrived. Others were fired or left because they weren't paid. They incurred huge debts and now have no way to pay them."

Paz Bambili, the director of Bambili, an advocacy organization for foreign workers, insists that "most people want to go home. The problem is that Jewish employers owe them money. Some people are sick. Some of their women are seven or eight months pregnant."

In the meantime, Bambili asserts, "It's made people live underground like animals. These are not criminals; they're normal people like you and me."

Daniel Seaman, a government spokesman, does not dispute that people are undergoing hardships.

"It's sad that people must be deported under these circumstances," he says, but insists, "someone who is here legally has nothing to be afraid of, and no one is being deported for the color of their skin or because they're foreigners. The reason for these drastic measures is that people violated the laws of the State of Israel and have remained here illegally."

The fallout from these measures can be felt in Neve Shaanan, a poor neighborhood in south Tel Aviv next to the new Central Bus Station. Not long ago the ethnic grocery stores, international phone centers, moneychangers and especially the peep shows were bustling with activity.

Since the start of the crackdown, the workers have been staying closer to home. When they need groceries, for example, they send out one person to shop. Most no longer frequent the cheap coffee shops that boast TV sets and videocassettes in a dozen languages.

"It's been difficult," says a pretty Filapina in a miniskirt, one of only two foreign workers who agreed to an interview - assuming her name was not published.

"I've been here five months and have only made a small dent in the $5,000 I owe to the agency that brought me here," she says.

Standing on a Neve Shaanan street corner, the woman, who has a valid visa, says she was shocked by the work conditions she has had to endure.

"I take care of an old lady 24 hours a day. I'm supposed to get a break during the day but there's no one else to take care of her," she says. "I was hired as strictly a caregiver but I've been forced to do all the cooking and cleaning, too. And all this for $500 a month. I was promised $700 but the agency is getting $200."

But "Bella," another Filapina who lost her legal status when the woman she moved to Israel to care for was placed in a nursing home, says she would do almost anything to stay in Israel.

"I love this country. I love the people and the money is great compared to the Philippines. I've already sent enough back home to put a down payment on a new house," she says.

Asked why she doesn't simply take advantage of the government's amnesty program, Bella, who has been cleaning houses and doing childcare, shrugs her shoulders.

"I have friends and even a couple of cousins working here in Israel. I made a commitment to myself and my family to work abroad for a few years in order for us to realize our dreams," she says. "This is the Holy Land, and I believe that God will help me find another old lady to care for."