The Death Toll of Whistleblowing Must End Now | Opinion

The mounting death toll of Boeing's production issues and safety negligence rose by one on Saturday. Whistleblower John Barnett, who for years had been warning of quality and safety issues at Boeing died by an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Barnett has been described by many who knew him as a "brave, honest man of the highest integrity." This describes most whistleblowers. We know because we have worked with hundreds of them—people who have come forward about unsafe practices in workplaces, theft from public funds, and threats to public safety. We have seen brave and honest people fired, gagged by NDAs, isolated from former colleagues, harassed, their lives and careers left in ruins. And sometimes, they end up dead.

The cause is a system that completely ignores the individual cost of whistleblowing, even as we become more dependent on the public service they perform. Corporations and billionaires are becoming more and more adept at hiding their nefarious doings while government regulations lag. Too often, only the insider can flag a problem that will cause real-world harm—like a plane crash. Yet, we leave these individuals to face down the powerful on their own, navigating a minefield of legal and personal risk.

There is no masterclass in how to blow the whistle. Most people don't even know there are lawyers who can help, or government rewards for certain kinds of information. By contrast, as whistleblowers struggle to bring important information to light, the corporations know exactly what playbook to deploy. Whistleblower crisis management is engaged before the employee even knows what is happening.

This begs the question: Why does anyone, no matter how brave, want to take this path? They do so because they might know a product is harming our children (Frances Haugen's Facebook Files), or a car could blow up (Hyundai engine fires). As AI and technological advancements continue to advance at breakneck pace, these brave insiders risk everything to protect us. The critical question therefore is not why, but how do we better ensure the bad actors pay the price for a whistle blown—not the whistleblower?

We need, as a society, to protect the whistleblower on their journey. We've all heard of helplines for domestic abuse or child trafficking; there is no whistleblower helpline, except the "whistleblower hotlines" run by the HR departments of the very companies an employee is trying to expose. In our experience, no one is going to help you on that hotline.

Mr. Barnett's journey took seven years and it still wasn't over. During that time, he lost his career, his relationships, he was publicly gaslit and vilified. Seven years is a long time to endure such treatment, especially with little support. What if years ago, he called a helpline and resources were put in place, a plan of action created? Professionals who had years of experience to triage and guide him. Peer support. A therapist with expertise. We need whistleblower help to be as ubiquitous as domestic violence help—the seriousness of the mental health crisis is comparable, yet nothing of the sort exists.

As a society, we need to find the funding to make this possible. We need to make information about whistleblowing and support for it ubiquitous. We need attorneys for whistleblowers who do not have a case that will lead to monetary reward, but whose information is nonetheless important for making the public safer and to ensure powerful interests are held accountable.

Companies themselves must also change their playbook. In the whistleblowers cases we've seen, gaslighting and harassment was nearly universal. A 2018 study noted "although whistleblowers suffer reprisals, they are traumatized by the emotional manipulation many employers routinely use to discredit and punish employees who report misconduct." Another study found approximately 85 percent of whistleblowers "suffer from severe to very severe anxiety, depression ... distrust ... agoraphobia and/or sleeping problems." Research suggests 69 percent of whistleblowers suffered declining physical health, and 66 percent endure severe financial decline. This has to change, and if companies won't change, lawmakers need to step in and do it for them.

We need to create community around whistleblowing. Because work is such a central part of our lives, our friendships and social life often revolve around our workplace. Removed from that workplace, silenced with an NDA, and publicly vilified (and unable to defend yourself because of that NDA), the isolation can be crippling.

Whistleblowers should no longer have to walk this journey alone. After having done one of the bravest things a person can do for the benefit of the public, the least we can do is make sure they are OK. Unfortunately, we cannot do that for Mr. Bennett. But in his honor, let's change what it means to be a whistleblower—and make sure that the next brave person comes out on the other side financially intact, mentally supported ... and alive.

Mary Inman is partner at Constantine Cannon, a law firm that represents whistleblowers.

Amber Scorah is founder of Parallel Story, a nonprofit helping whistleblowers tell their stories.

Jennifer Gibson is legal director of The Signals Network, a nonprofit supporting whistleblowers who disclose public interest information.

The views expressed in this article are the writers' own.