(FORTUNE Magazine) – Randy Robarge, a nuclear power plant supervisor, never intended to be a whistleblower. To Robarge, raising concerns about the improper storage of radioactive material at ComEd's Zion power plant on Lake Michigan was just part of doing a good job. The 20-year veteran was so respected when it came to safety issues that ComEd used him to narrate the company's training video on safety, which is still used throughout the industry. So he never expected that speaking up would end his career.

At first the harassment was subtle. He says he was routinely denied days off and asked to cover for employees who were out. Co-workers kept their distance, and supervisors began criticizing his work. Three months later Robarge was out of a job. Over the next two years a federal investigation would prove that Zion's radiation containment procedures--the ones Robarge had complained about--were lax, and the plant was eventually shut down. The Department of Labor also ordered the company to pay Robarge a small settlement for his improper treatment. In the eyes of the court, Robarge was vindicated. But six years after speaking up and hundreds of job applications later, Robarge still can't get a job in his industry. "It's a living hell," says Robarge, 49, who supports himself with savings and odd jobs. "This is my livelihood, what I love to do. But I'm off limits. No one wants to touch me. I was labeled as a whistleblower."

Unfortunately Robarge is not alone. About half of all whistleblowers get fired, half of those fired will lose their homes, and most of those will then lose their families too, says C. Fred Alford, author of Whistleblowers: Broken Lives and Organizational Power. "For every Sherron Watkins, there are 200 to 300 whistleblowers you never hear about who don't fare so well." Overall, 90% of whistleblowers can expect some kind of reprisal--public humiliation, isolation, career freezing, firing, blacklisting--from their company. "The forms of organizational harassment are limited only by the imagination," says Tom Devine, head of the Government Accountability Project, a whistleblower advocacy group. Its Whistleblower's Survival Guide is a mainstay in legal circles.

Since co-workers and even friends rarely rally behind whistleblowers, feelings of isolation and betrayal run high. "It is lonely," says Michael Lissack, the former Smith Barney banker who became a whistleblower celebrity after exposing a municipal finance scam on Wall Street in 1995. "My wife said, 'Thank you for ruining both our lives,' and walked out the door." There is even an annual retreat for whistleblowers to help them deal with the stress and repercussions of speaking up, headed by psychologist and whistleblower expert Donald Soeken.

Even for those who don't lose their jobs, the debilitating effects on their careers can be just as damaging. Mick Andersen was a former manager in the Justice Department who complained in 1997 about various forms of misconduct, including sexual favoritism in hiring, breaches of security, and visa fraud in the overseas criminal training program. His complaints led to a shakeup of the department and a settlement for him, as well as recognition last summer from the Office of Special Counsel. But after voicing his concerns, he says, he immediately was banished to "corporate Siberia" and was forced to use a storage closet for an office. Ignored by co-workers and superiors, he went for months without any assignments and spent his days reading Civil War books before finally resigning. "I was a true believer in the system, and it failed," he says. "Professionally I felt slimed."

Feedback? careers@fortunemail.com