Shadow play: Jacques Vallée’s Control System Hypothesis and D. W. Pasulka on the social engineering of the UFO mythology

Among thoughts provoked by my recently reading James Madden’s Unidentified Flying Hyperobject: UFOs, Philosophy, and the End of the World (2023), aside from those concerning the hyperobject, were others regarding Madden’s about Jacques Vallée’s Control System Hypothesis and D. W. Pasulka’s contentions about the intentional steering of the UFO mythology. I have already probed some ideological implications of two variations of Vallée’s Control System Hypothesis; here, I address Madden’s presentation of Pasulka’s “troubling thesis” (105) from her American Cosmic (2019).

For Madden, Pasulka’s position is that “we are in the midst of a religious transformation, and this process is something that is being done to us…[using] the newly honed tools of media technology.” This “manipulation looks like it has been transacted, at least in part, by quite mundane powers.” This “religious transformation” is characterized by “a particular system of belief centering on ‘nuts-and-bolts’ UFO technology manned by extraterrestrial, rational animals.” For Madden, Pasulka is inspired to investigate this “religious transformation” first by Jung’s observation that with the modern “flying saucer” era “We have…a golden opportunity of seeing how a legend [for Pasulka, a religion] is born” (103).

Despite Madden’s seeing Pasulka and Jeffrey Kripal as “the avant garde for academic ufology in the humanities and social sciences” (9), the religious dimensions of the UFO and its pilots have a long, rich history of academic, scholarly investigation (interested readers are directed—for a start—to the essays collected in The Gods Have Landed: New Religions from Other Worlds (1995)). Be that as it may, what strikes Madden is Pasulka’s conjecture that the UFO mythology is being intentionally engineered. Madden quotes American Cosmic:

The creation of a belief system is now much easier to accomplish than it was two thousand years ago, when people didn’t possess smartphones and were not exposed to the ubiquitous screens of a culture that now teaches us how to see, what to see, and how to interpret what we see…I [Pasulka] was beginning to research the ways in which the virtual and digital media were being used for political purposes under the auspices of information operations. how the military employed media, social media, and all types of electronic media for purposes of national security. All these media have played major roles in the creation of a global belief in UFOs and extraterrestrials. It is in the world of media that the myth is created, sustained, and proliferates. (104)

Surely, the myth is, in a sense, “created…in the world of media:” there would be no “flying saucers” had not a journalist coined the term. The “visionary rumour” has been spread through print, electronic, and now digital media (newspapers, magazines, books, radio, television, cinema, and the internet). Indeed, the dissemination, formation, and reception of the myth in the media is a study of its own. At the same time, that the authorities (at least in the United States) have not been absolutely forthcoming and have actively engaged in spinning the topic is old news. Already in his first book, The Flying Saucers are Real (1950), Donald Keyhoe first expressed the view that the air force knew (or had, at least, concluded) that flying saucers were interplanetary spacecraft but was covering up this knowledge and dissuading public belief in it until a later date when through various public relations efforts the “ontological shock” of the revelation that “we are not alone” could be sufficiently cushioned and controlled. Keyhoe’s books planted the seeds for the ideas of “the flying saucer conspiracy” (the title of his 1955 book) and the push for “Disclosure” (the authorities’ admitting publicly what they know about our interstellar visitors), something Keyhoe actively worked toward in his lifetime.

Today, the locus classicus of such dissimulation is the Army Air Force’s first claiming a flying saucer had crashed near Roswell, New Mexico, only to quickly retract the story and explain what had been found on Mac Brazel’s ranch were the remnants of a weather balloon. No less pertinent if perhaps less famous is Allen Hynek’s being urged to explain the sightings in Exeter, New Hampshire as swamp gas. More gravely, stories of intentional deception by military and intelligence agents are well-known (Jerome Clark’s The UFO Book (1998) includes a two-dozen page entry “The Dark Side” with a thirty-seven entry bibliography). Among them, most notoriously, are the cases of Paul Bennewitz, who was driven to insanity and suicide by an Air Force disinformation campaign (as well-researched and documented by Greg Bishop in his Project Beta: The Story of Paul Bennewitz, National Security, and the Creation of a Modern UFO Myth (2005)) and that of William L. Moore, who was actively recruited both to provide intelligence on his fellow ufologists and to disseminate disinformation, an important actor in the whole MJ-12 affair. Jacques Vallée’s 1991 Revelations: Alien Contact and Human Deception delves into these and other, international stories, while the late Robbie Graham’s Silver Screen Saucers: Sorting Fact from Fantasy in Hollywood’s UFO Movies (2015) is arguably the deepest dive into government actors’ actively playing a role “in the creation of a global belief in UFOs and extraterrestrials” (Graham, curiously, absent from the pages of American Cosmic).

What needs be remarked is that already in his 1975 volume The Invisible College: What a Group of Scientists Has Discovered about UFO Influences on the Human Race Vallée was reflecting on the manipulation of the myth by both human and nonhuman agents, writing about both the UMMO affair (an elaborate hoax committed by unknown parties for unknown reasons) and developing his Control System Hypothesis (that some UFO sightings and encounter events are intentionally staged by the intelligence behind the “real” phenomenon to act as stimuli to modify social behaviour). These two manipulations are humorously represented in the X-Files episode “José Chung’s ‘From Outer Space'” (1996) where two air force pilots, disguised as Greys abducting a young couple, are interrupted and abducted themselves by a real alien from (perhaps) inner earth. Indeed, that the American (and other) governments have had a hand in manufacturing UFO events and manipulating the mythology is, itself, an important part of the X-Files‘ UFO mythology. (One might be moved to ask if Chris Carter’s series is, then, a moment of postmodern reflexivity, where the medium of manipulation makes an open secret of its manipulations). The matter is, indeed, complex…

Setting aside the possible deceptiveness of the Phenomenon itself, even the human steering of the mythology is far from simple. (I have ventured some reflections on the matter, here). First, there are a number of parties involved, national (e.g. the United States) and private (e.g., those responsible for the UMMO hoax). Even within a single nation state, there are a number of agencies, not all of which are necessarily acting in unison or even necessarily aware of each others efforts (e.g., the navy, the air force, the various intelligence agencies). Are all these pushing the same agenda? More generally, it seems not unlikely that various nation states will exploit the mythology each for their own ends. Indeed, one reason the United States Air Force was so concerned about flying saucers was it feared the Soviet Union could use a flurry of “uncoordinated targets” as cover for an air assault. Exactly how various international actors might in fact be exploiting the mythology is a question.

As the cases of Paul Bennewitz and others attest, at least in the United States, various actors have in fact worked to maintain and guide the mythology, but to what end or ends? In the case of Bennewitz, it was to cover up highly-secret transmissions Bennewitz had detected but couldn’t understand. Further, we do know that the idea of extraterrestrial spaceships buzzing the skies has served as a cover story to hide test flights of experimental aeroforms. Other uses are imaginable, but uncertain. Even if the myth is part of a larger, long term plan, perhaps the interested powers-that-be, even without an immediate use, seek to maintain the myth of interstellar visitors as a potential weapon in the psychological, propagandistic arsenal for some eventual, unforeseen use.

However, as the X-Files episode mentioned above shows, the mythology is, in a sense, out of control. The manipulation of the myth, as well, at least among a portion of the population, is even already out of the bag. One might ask, moreover, if it is imaginable that any one government can have an agent in a steering role in every movie and television studio. Anyone who has worked in the motion picture or television industry will attest just how aleatoric the process of movie production is, how hard it is to control and determine the final product, so many having a vested interest. Of course, an iron-fisted control is likely not even needed; all that’s necessary is to nudge the mythology as necessary, as long as the reigning idea is that of extraterrestrial visitation. As long as the idea is sufficiently profitable, it will be creatively exploited. (Arguably, a less paranoid and more interesting question is just why this idea holds so much fascination…).

At the same time, however ubiquitous the “visionary rumour,” exactly how powerful is it? What exactly is the value of steering “our collective unconscious toward [this] particular system of belief” by a “co-opted popular media” (105)? However true that such co-option is in fact at work, the production of the mythology is out of any one party’s hands, not to mention its reception by audiences who are hardly mindlessly passive receivers, rendering the predictable and, hence, controllable effects of the myth uncertain to a questionable degree.

What Pasulka fails to question are the conditions of possibility for the persuasiveness of the myth’s central idea in the first place, social conditions which imply a deeper function of the idea of technologically-advanced extraterrestrial civilizations. First, the “plurality of worlds” is an old idea; the belief in the possibility of “intelligent life” on other planets goes back to antiquity. Thus, ideas about aliens and their spaceships were already in the air when the United States Army Air Force cast around for possible explanations for the sightings of flying discs in the wake of Kenneth Arnold’s report of “flying saucers.” That this science-fiction theme already thrived quite vitally in the media of the day suggests there would have been little need for it to be cultured to whatever end, however much there is in fact evidence of such meddling. And, as I have argued here consistently, the myth of anthropomorphic extraterrestrials and their technologies is an all-too understandable projection of the self-understanding of the so-called “advanced societies,” especially within the context of their having “progressed” to the point of being able to annihilate themselves. On the one hand, these alien societies are images of a possible future the other side of the critical threats facing the modernized world; on the other, as SETI researchers themselves have proposed, extraterrestrial civilizations “more advanced” than our own might very well have solved the very problems that threaten ours, a belief shared by advocates of Disclosure eager to exploit those free energy technologies they believe world governments have retrieved, reverse engineered, and exploited to their own ends. This more profound view of the UFO mythology perceives it not so much as a new religion (though it has surely inspired New Religious Movements) but as a quite understandably spontaneous outgrowth of the ideology underwriting technoscientific society, a fantasy that imagines that, because such societies are natural (a universal feature of the evolution of life, from its appearance to its developing “intelligence”), technological “progress,” at least potentially, can solve the problems it itself gives rise to, an imaginary answer to a real problem. In this regard, it seems those aspiring social engineers that so concern Madden and Pasulka could very well have saved themselves the trouble.

A note on the Hyperobject

This reflection does not intend to supplement or contradict the reviews of Unidentified Flying Hyperobject, for example, those of Michael Zimmerman or Travis Dumsday. Rather, it is occasioned by my reading through Madden’s Unidentified Flying Hyperobject in preparation for a session of the SUAPS monthly reading circle. In the course of my preparation, one aspect of Madden’s book that caught my attention is the way he puts to work Timothy Morton’s notion of the hyperobject.

My approach is critical—not fault-finding but probing the conditions for and implications of a notion, position, or practice. For example, conversations around “Artificial Intelligence” (“AI”) tend to be either practical or theoretical. Developers and engineers concern themselves with building, training, and “improving” “AI,” while others reflect on its implications for society or our conceptions of intelligence or consciousness. A critical perspective, however, focusses on the historical, social, and material conditions that determine the phenomenon. In the case of “AI,” one can point to Matteo Pasquinelli’s book The Eye of the Master:  A Social History of Artificial Intelligence or Muldoon’s and Wu’s study “Artificial Intelligence in the Colonial Matrix of Power,” which “theorises how a system of coloniality underpins the structuring logic of artificial intelligence (AI) systems,” bringing into view the “regimes of global labour exploitation and knowledge extraction that are rendered invisible through discourses of the purported universality and objectivity of AI.” Note how practical and theoretical considerations are included in critique, however much their apparent spontaneous objectivity is stripped away in the process.

Madden’s argument strikes me as a bricolage. He borrows freely from Plato, Aristotle, Heidegger, Wilfred Sellars, Jakob von Uexküll, Nietzsche, and others what he needs to jerry-rig a working, speculative framework of his own. This method of construction tends to overlook the implications of its component parts, risking an incoherence (into which it seems to me Madden’s speculations fall, at least in so far as they are presented). But apart from this problem, the notion of the hyperobject possesses some intriguing implications, especially in the way Madden develops it.

With regard to the hyperobject, Madden, following object oriented ontologist Graham Harman, first argues that “If a thing has effects novel with respect to its components (including control of those components) and an identity that survives their replacement, and it controls its parts, then that thing is real—without qualifications” (70). Madden employs Harman’s example of a particular Pizza Hut franchise:  “The entire staff, management, and equipment can be changed over while we still have the same Pizza Hut restaurant” (71). Madden infers that, therefore, “we can make a case that a particular Pizza Hut has a life of its own…things we originally do or set in motion, e.g., a Pizza Hut franchise can actually go their own way independently of us, and even while controlling us.”

The substantial agency of such an object is then transferred to a plane of transcendently large complexity. Madden cites Morton’s description of the hyperobject, its being

…things that are massively distributed in time and space relative to humans. A hyperobject could be a black hole. A hyperobject could be the Lago Agrio oil field in Ecuador, or the Florida Everglades. A hyperobject could be the biosphere, or the Solar System. A hyperobject could be the sum total of all the nuclear materials on Earth… A hyperobject could be the very long lasting product of human manufacture such as Styrofoam or plastic bags, or the sum of all the whirring machines of capitalism. Hyperobjects, then, are “hyper” in relation to some other entity, whether they are directly manufactured by humans or not. (72).

A close, rhetorically-vigilant reading of Madden’s development of Morton’s notion reveals a telling tropology. Madden begins with Harman’s example of the Pizza Hut franchise as, as it were, a synecdochic “part” of the Pizza Hut Corporation hyperobject. Moving on from the passage from Morton, above, Madden then writes of the environment, the economy, and the war in Ukraine as hyperobjects (73). Later, this list becomes “economies, wars, nations, [and] corporations” (74), a passage preceding Madden’s writing of the UFO hyperobject that “maybe…now it’s on the loose under its own steam.”

If we read Madden here both taking him at his word and against the grain we might perceive that the very idea of the hyperobject is a precipitate of the social moment of its articulation, for thinking of the hyperobject socially (as the economy or a corporation) seems indexical of that moment in late capitalism when the sacrosanct, independent agency of the economy resembles some zombie version of Adam Smith’s Invisible Hand and, at least in the United States, corporations are legally persons. That is, it should come as little surprise that this idea of the hyperobject should come to consciousness within a context of social conditions characterized by socially contingent entities’ (the economy and corporations) possessing a fetishized, reified independence and agency, a time marked, further, by the climate crisis (the hyperobject par excellence), a development whose cause can be traced to the metabolic rift that characterizes capitalism’s relation to the natural world from which it extracts wealth and, most immediately and tellingly, to the Industrial Revolution and its steam-powered “Dark Satanic Mills.”

Does this realization imply the notion of the hyperobject is false? Not at all. However, what is revealed is how its articulation is an instance of how social conditions determine consciousness and how the products of that thinking consciousness can work in an unintentional collusion with those conditions under and within which it labours. At the very least, the hyperobject cannot, as if it were a hyperobject itself, pretend to transcend and illuminate (determine) the (social) world that determines its genesis and orients a now vigilant reception of its being put to use.