100 YEARS OF CONTACT ~ From Occult Encounters and Flying Saucers to Experiencers, Secret Programs and Disclosure
100 YEARS OF CONTACT ~ From Occult Encounters and Flying Saucers to Experiencers, Secret Programs and Disclosure
By Janet Kira Lessin and Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D.
Aquarian Media
For more than a century, men and women across the world have described encounters with intelligences that seemed to exist outside ordinary human society, yet the language used to describe those encounters has changed so dramatically that the continuity between generations can disappear beneath the terminology.
Early witnesses spoke of spirits, angels, demons, adepts, or mysterious entities; the contactees of the 1950s described Venusians, Martians, and Space Brothers; later generations spoke of extraterrestrials, Greys, Nordics, Reptilians, interdimensionals, and ultraterrestrials.
Today, after decades of ridicule, denial, investigation and renewed government interest, the deliberately neutral phrase non-human intelligence, or NHI, has entered the conversation.
The vocabulary changed because human culture changed, while the encounters themselves continued to appear across generations and continents. Modern contact did not begin at Roswell, nor can it be contained within the familiar history of flying saucers, because long before newspapers printed that phrase, people described communication with intelligences they believed existed beyond the accepted boundaries of human experience.
By the early twentieth century, occultists reported contact through ritual and altered states of consciousness. During the Second World War, unusual aerial phenomena appeared alongside revolutionary developments in rocketry and military technology.
After the war, pilots reported extraordinary craft, civilians described meetings with their occupants, and eventually thousands of experiencers told stories that ranged from beautiful and transformative to terrifying and traumatic. When these accounts are placed in chronological order rather than separated into competing categories, they begin to form something closer to a continuous history of humanity’s attempt to understand contact.
For us, that history is also personal. During decades of research, broadcasting, conferences, and private conversations, many of the people whose names appear in the history of contact ceased to be remote figures in books. We met them, interviewed them, hosted some in our home, traveled to visit others, shared conferences and meals with them, and heard stories that sometimes extended well beyond the polished versions presented before an audience. Several became friends, and some trusted us with their memories when they knew that their time was short.
That personal dimension has become one of the reasons we are preserving this history now.
BEFORE THE FLYING SAUCER: CONTACT AT THE EDGE OF OCCULTISM AND SCIENCE
One of the strangest precursors to the familiar modern extraterrestrial image appeared in 1918, almost three decades before Roswell, when occultist Aleister Crowley produced his well-known portrait of Lam during the period associated with the Amalantrah Working.
Lam’s enormous cranium, narrow jaw, and unusual facial proportions bear an intriguing resemblance to beings that later generations would identify as Greys, although Crowley worked within an occult rather than an extraterrestrial vocabulary and understood his experiences through concepts of invocation, magical intelligence, and communication across dimensions.
That difference in language may tell us as much about human culture as it does about the beings themselves, because extraordinary experiences are almost always interpreted through whatever framework a society makes available. A person in antiquity might describe an angel descending from heaven; an occultist in 1918 might speak of an entity reached through ritual.
A pilot in 1947 would report an unidentified flying object; an experiencer in the late twentieth century might describe a Grey, a Nordic or an interdimensional being. Crowley’s story became even more relevant to the later history of contact through Jack Parsons, the brilliant and volatile American rocket pioneer whose professional and occult lives existed side by side.
Parsons helped establish the technological foundations of what became the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, yet he also became deeply involved with Crowley’s Ordo Templi Orientis and pursued ritual practices aimed at reaching realities beyond ordinary human consciousness.
In 1946, Parsons undertook a series of rituals known as the Babalon Working, with L. Ron Hubbard participating for part of that period. The historical juxtaposition deserves more attention than it usually receives, because at the same moment humanity was developing rockets capable of carrying us beyond Earth, people connected to that technological revolution were also attempting to reach nonordinary intelligence through consciousness and ritual.
Hubbard later separated from Parsons and went on to create Dianetics and Scientology, whose cosmology eventually expanded far beyond conventional terrestrial history and incorporated immense periods of cosmic time, prehuman existence, thetans and events involving civilizations beyond Earth.
Whatever conclusions one reaches about Hubbard or Scientology, the development illustrates a pattern worth examining throughout this century of contact: an extraordinary revelation can become a teaching, a teaching can create a community, and a community can eventually become a religion.
Once that possibility is considered, the distance between ancient sacred history and modern contact begins to shrink.
THE 1940s: WAR, ROCKETS AND CONTACT BEFORE ROSWELL
The contact story entered another realm during the Second World War, when reports of unusual aerial phenomena appeared alongside astonishing advances in propulsion, rocketry, weapons and aerospace engineering.
Allied pilots described mysterious luminous objects that acquired the nickname “foo fighters,” while Germany pursued technologies that, in several areas, seemed far ahead of the aircraft familiar only a decade earlier.
Into this difficult and controversial history comes William Mills Tompkins, whose later testimony connected wartime intelligence, German aerospace development, postwar American programs and claims of extraterrestrial technological influence. Tompkins described work associated with U.S.
Navy intelligence and said that American agents returned from Europe with information about advanced German projects, including material related to Maria Orsic, Vril groups, and alleged communications from non-human sources.
He later worked in the American aerospace industry and described an environment in which conventional engineering coexisted with programs whose origins remained concealed.
His testimony introduces one of the recurring questions that follows us through the remainder of this history: while a public space program developed in full view, did another technological program emerge behind military classification, corporate compartmentalization, and intelligence secrecy?
At roughly the same time, outside the military world, the extraordinary contact narrative of Eduard “Billy” Meier began. Meier placed his first sustained contact in 1942, when he was five years old, with an elderly being named Sfath, followed by a later period of contact with Asket and, decades afterward, the famous series associated with Semjase, which Meier dated from January 28, 1975.
That chronology matters because Meier is usually introduced as a phenomenon of the 1970s, when his photographs became internationally known, although his own account stretches back before Roswell and crosses almost the entire modern contact era.
Then came 1947, and the mystery moved decisively into public consciousness.
1947: WHEN THE SKY OPENED
On June 24, 1947, civilian pilot Kenneth Arnold reported seeing nine unusual objects move across the sky near Mount Rainier at remarkable speed. His description of their motion was transformed by the press into the phrase that defined an era: flying saucers.
Arnold’s report arrived during a broader wave of sightings across the United States, as pilots, military personnel and ordinary citizens described objects whose speed and maneuverability seemed to exceed familiar aircraft. Newspapers spread the reports rapidly, turning what had once belonged to esoteric circles and occasional military rumors into a national conversation.
Only weeks later came Roswell, where debris recovered from a ranch northwest of the New Mexico town was brought to personnel at Roswell Army Air Field. On July 8, 1947, the military announced that it had recovered a flying disc, only to replace that announcement with a weather-balloon explanation soon afterward.
Whatever interpretation one accepts regarding Roswell, the event marks a major transition because UFOs had entered the machinery of national security, military secrecy, and public information management. From that point forward, two histories seemed to run beside one another: one existed in newspapers, films, and popular culture, while another disappeared behind classified doors.
The question was no longer limited to whether strange craft appeared in the sky; it increasingly became a question of what governments knew and why the public was not permitted to know it.
THE CONTACTEES: WHEN THE OCCUPANTS STEPPED OUT
By the early 1950s, reports moved beyond distant craft as witnesses began describing encounters with their occupants.
The most famous early American contactee was George Adamski, who said that on November 20, 1952, near Desert Center, California, he encountered a human-looking visitor later identified as Orthon.
Adamski’s account became one of the foundational stories of the contactee era, not merely because he described a meeting with an extraterrestrial but because the message associated with that encounter addressed humanity’s growing technological power and its dangerous relationship with nuclear weapons.
Adamski was joined by figures such as Howard Menger, George Hunt Williamson, Daniel Fry, Orfeo Angelucci, and others whose stories differed in detail but frequently carried a common warning: humanity had reached a technological threshold without developing the emotional, ethical, or spiritual maturity required to control the power it had acquired.
The press often treated these contactees as curiosities or eccentrics, yet the central concern within much of the contactee literature has aged remarkably well.
The visitors were often described as less interested in proving extraterrestrial existence than in warning that a technologically advanced but psychologically immature civilization could destroy itself.
FROM CONTACT TO ABDUCTION: THE EXPERIENCER EMERGES
The tone of the public record changed during the 1960s as many reports shifted from voluntary encounters to experiences that witnesses neither requested nor understood.
The most famous turning point came with Betty and Barney Hill, whose September 1961 experience in New Hampshire involved an unusual object, missing time, and later memories of beings, medical procedures, and an unfamiliar environment.
Their case introduced millions of people to a disturbing possibility: the occupants of UFOs did not always remain at a distance, and contact did not necessarily occur by invitation.
Over subsequent decades, thousands of people described missing time, medical examinations, telepathic communication, reproductive procedures, childhood encounters, and experiences that appeared to continue across generations within families.
Some reported terror and trauma, while others described expanded psychic perception, profound environmental concern, spiritual change, or the gradual recognition that their encounters formed part of a relationship extending through much of their lives.
The word abductee eventually proved too narrow for such a wide range of experiences, and many people came to prefer a broader term. They became known as experiencers.
1975: MEIER, WALTON AND A NEW LEVEL OF PHYSICAL CLAIM
When Billy Meier’s contact with Semjase began in 1975, his case entered the phase that would make him internationally famous.
He produced photographs, films, extensive written contact notes, and a detailed cosmology describing the beings and civilizations he said stood behind the encounters, creating one of the largest archives associated with any individual contact case and one of the most fiercely debated bodies of evidence in UFO history.
TRAVIS WALTON
Later that year, Travis Walton disappeared in Arizona after several coworkers reported seeing him approach an extraordinary luminous object in the forest.
Walton remained missing for five days before returning, creating another landmark case because multiple witnesses were present shortly before his disappearance.
The contrast between Meier and Walton revealed how broad the contact spectrum had become.
One man described a sustained relationship with named extraterrestrial teachers and amassed thousands of pages of material, while another disappeared after a dramatic encounter witnessed by coworkers and returned with an experience that would follow him for the rest of his life.
No single explanation comfortably contained them both.
GEORGE GREEN: FROM EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE TO BILLY MEIER
George Green entered our lives long after his first encounter with the UFO phenomenon, but by the time Sasha and I came to know George and his wife, Gillian Green, his history had already crossed several important developments in the modern contact story.
George traced his own introduction to the extraterrestrial question to Edwards Air Force Base in 1958, where he served during one of the most important periods in American aerospace development and worked around experimental aircraft associated with the X-15 program. He recalled driving to a remote hangar and seeing a large circular craft from approximately ten feet away, although he initially assumed it was another classified American project.
When he later asked the base photographer for pictures of the craft, his friend took him into the photo lab and showed him photographs not only of the disc but also of two dead non-human occupants, whose appearance George compared with that of the small beings later described as Greys. George was explicit in our interview that he personally saw the craft, while the dead beings were shown to him in photographs.
George said that after he confronted his commander about what he had discovered, he received an emphatic reminder of his top-secret clearance and the penalties attached to revealing classified information. He kept silent and was transferred away from Edwards several weeks later, carrying the memory with him for more than two decades.
The story resumed in 1984, when George was building a house in Aspen and encountered the large photographic book UFO Contact from the Pleiades, containing images associated with Swiss contactee Billy Meier. George said that the craft in the photographs looked remarkably like the disc he had seen at Edwards, which caught his attention and prompted an investigation that would change the direction of his life.
George flew to Phoenix, where he met the American researchers and publishers involved with the Meier material and asked what he could do to help them bring the information before the public. When they explained that they needed financing to publish additional books, George offered the money himself.
He said he would loan them the money to publish the books, asking only that his principal be returned after the books began to sell because he did not want interest or profit from the arrangement; helping bring the information to the public was the return he wanted from the project.
Approximately ninety days later, George said he received financial records showing that the project had generated several times the amount he had advanced, yet his money had not been returned. When he telephoned to ask why, he was told that they had discovered who he was and concluded that he did not need the money. George objected because repayment had been part of the agreement, and he eventually filed suit.
The dispute became one of the reasons George went directly to Switzerland. He and his wife flew to Zurich, rented a car, and drove to the area where Meier lived because George wanted to meet Billy himself, clarify the publishing situation, and determine what lay behind material in which he had now invested both money and personal credibility.
When George arrived, he identified himself as the man who had put up money for a movie project and for publication of the Meier books. He told the people at the compound that he believed Billy’s information should reach the world and wanted to speak with him directly.
At first the people around Meier remained suspicious of another American visitor because, as George recalled, they believed previous visitors had taken photographs and material without fulfilling their promises to help.
George left for the night, but the next morning a woman from the compound arrived at his hotel with a two-page message that George said came from Quetzal, whom he identified as a Pleiadian commander, inviting him back.
George described the following week as a period that overturned much of what he thought he understood, and he said he eventually reached an agreement with Billy and the extraterrestrials to help bring their information to the public.
His time in Switzerland produced other memories that he later shared with us. George described visiting a farmer near Meier’s property who showed him enormous footprints and said that an extraordinarily tall humanoid had stood near the barn.
George returned to Billy with the story, whereupon Billy took him into a back room and showed him plaster casts of small humanoid figures, using them to illustrate his contention that intelligences of many different sizes and forms existed throughout the universe.
George also said that while in Switzerland he personally photographed material connected with the Meier case, including holes in trees that he associated with a device demonstrated there, and in another interview recalled seeing Billy with what he described as a small ray-gun-like device.
After returning to the United States, George attempted to untangle the legal rights associated with Meier’s story.
He told Billy that the worldwide rights had already been assigned to the Phoenix group he was suing, but believed his Beverly Hills attorneys, who represented the Screen Actors Guild, might be able to resolve the contractual conflict.
George recalled speaking with Billy from his attorney’s office and trying to arrange for him to come to California so the matter could be heard in court, but Billy refused, believing California faced future destruction and not wanting to leave Switzerland and his children.
George’s role in the Meier story was therefore considerably more substantial than that of a later commentator who happened to become interested in Billy’s photographs. By George’s own testimony, he financed publication of Meier material, financed a related film effort, traveled to Switzerland because of that involvement, met Billy personally, examined material at the compound, and attempted to resolve the legal rights surrounding further publication.
George’s professional history helps explain how he found himself in such a position. Long before contact research became central to his life, he had worked in finance, securities, banking, insurance, real estate development, and publishing. Public biographies describe him as a former investment banker, registered financial principal, broker-dealer, securities underwriter, real estate developer, insurance broker, and publisher, as well as president of Global Insights, Inc.
His involvement with Billy Meier also became a gateway into a much wider contact network. George said that he became acquainted with retired Air Force Colonel Wendelle Stevens, whom he regarded as one of the leading investigators of the Meier case, and through Stevens encountered reports and witnesses from many parts of the world.
HOW WE MET GEORGE AND GILLIAN
Sasha and I first met George and Gillian Green in person at the StarworksUSA Conference in Laughlin, Nevada, organized by investigative journalist Paola Harris and held at the Aquarius Hotel and Casino Resort. What happened during that first meeting remains one of my clearest memories from all the years we spent in the contact and experiencer community.
Our table stood in the center section of the conference room, toward the back, and I was sitting there with my head down as I attended to something on the table when two hands suddenly came down in front of me, and a woman exclaimed to George:
“Here, George. Here they are! This is what I’ve been searching for since I walked into this room.”
I looked up and saw Gillian Green with an enormous smile on her face, and within moments we had begun to talk with the ease and speed of people who did not feel as though they had just met.
I told Sasha to watch the table while Gillian and I marched out of the conference room, found somewhere nearby to sit, and began comparing experiences, memories, impressions, and pieces of information. Gillian told me she had felt us—felt me—the moment she entered the room and had followed that feeling until she reached our table.
Once we sat together, the words poured out of both of us. We chattered like chipmunks, two long-lost souls who had somehow found one another again amid the noise and movement of a crowded conference.
Gillian recognized me as Ninmah and understood herself to be an Anunnaki soul as well. That recognition became part of the foundation of our friendship and helped explain the extraordinary familiarity we felt from the beginning. Contact, reincarnation, consciousness, ancient history, and the Anunnaki became parts of a conversation that seemed to resume rather than begin.
That first encounter was not an isolated memory from the conference. We continued to meet George and Gillian at StarworksUSA year after year, and what began in Laughlin grew into an ongoing friendship as those conferences became reunions rather than chance meetings. George also joined us at the IUFO Conference, while our relationship continued through broadcasts, private conversations, shared research, and many encounters within the contact community.
One of our later Sacred Matrix programs confirms how established that friendship had become, because I introduced George as a dear friend and mentioned that we had recently spent time together at StarworksUSA.
By then, George and Gillian were no longer people we knew because of the UFO field; they had become part of our lives. We knew them away from the microphone, heard parts of their histories that did not always reach the public record, and had enough time together to understand how their private selves related to the stories they told on stage or over the air.
George told Sasha and me in person about financing the Billy Meier publication effort and about his reasons for traveling to Switzerland, so when we later heard him recount the same sequence during our broadcasts, we already understood that his involvement with Meier had been one of the major turning points in his life.
Near the end of George’s life, after cancer had taken a serious toll, he called me because he wanted to tell his story one more time. We arranged what appears to have been one of his last major interviews with us and gave him the space to put on record what he still wanted people to understand about his life, the people he knew and the extraordinary history he believed he had witnessed.
Later Gillian called me after George died. She and George had gone out to enjoy a meal together, one of the pleasures they always shared, and he died there in his chair beside her. That memory belongs beside everything else George told us about Billy Meier, extraterrestrials, finance, political power, hidden programs and humanity’s future, because the people whose names become part of UFO history remain human beings with partners, friendships, private lives and final days.
George Green was not merely someone we researched, while Gillian was never simply “George Green’s wife.” They became our friends, and that relationship began when Gillian crossed a conference room in Laughlin, put her hands on our table, and announced with complete certainty that she had finally found the people she had been searching for.
THE 1980s: CONTACT BECOMES A COSMOLOGY
During the 1980s, contact expanded beyond sightings, physical encounters, and abductions to encompass elaborate cosmologies in which consciousness itself became part of the mechanism.
Between 1981 and 1984, Carla Rueckert, Don Elkins, and Jim McCarty produced the sessions known as The Law of One or The Ra Material, a body of communication dealing with reincarnation, densities of consciousness, service to others, service to self, planetary evolution, and humanity’s relationship with larger cosmic systems.
Darryl Anka began channeling the intelligence known as Bashar during this broader period, eventually developing decades’ worth of material concerning extraterrestrial civilization, hybridization, parallel realities, and human transformation. Whether interpreted as channeling, consciousness research, or contact with non-human intelligence, the communication itself had become the encounter.
Then, in 1987, Whitley Strieber published Communion and altered the cultural language of contact almost overnight. The haunting face on the book’s cover became one of the most recognizable images in modern UFO culture, but Strieber’s deeper contribution came through his refusal to reduce his experiences to a simple story of visitors arriving from another planet. He wrote instead about terror, consciousness, memory, transformation and the possibility that the visitors operated within a reality more complicated than ordinary ideas of extraterrestrial travel could explain.
By the end of the decade, the phenomenon no longer fit comfortably inside the phrase flying saucer.
JOHN MACK: WHEN HARVARD LISTENED TO EXPERIENCERS
The experiencer movement crossed another threshold when Dr. John E. Mack, a Harvard psychiatrist and Pulitzer Prize-winning author, began listening seriously to people who reported abduction and contact.
Mack refused to begin with the assumption that every witness must be delusional, and as he interviewed case after case, he encountered psychologically functional people from varied professions and backgrounds whose experiences showed recurring patterns. Many also underwent profound changes in worldview, environmental concern, and spiritual understanding after their encounters.
His work provoked controversy within Harvard and conventional psychiatry, yet Mack continued because he believed that whatever stood behind these reports could not be explained away merely by assigning pathological labels to the people who experienced them.
For experiencers, that change mattered enormously because Mack created a space in which someone could describe an impossible experience without automatically being forced to choose between silence and a psychiatric diagnosis.
Our lives also crossed with John’s broader experiencer community, and I personally spoke with him about my own experiences, including the military-abduction, or MILAB, dimension that became increasingly important in the late-twentieth-century contact narrative.
MY OWN CONTACT: FROM CHILDHOOD TO JOHNSTON ATOLL
My place in this history did not begin with my reading a UFO book and deciding that extraterrestrials existed; contact came first, while understanding took much longer.
Some of my earliest experiences began in childhood, when I encountered beings and phenomena for which I had no adequate language, including the being I came to know as George, a Draco/Reptilian guide whose appearance initially frightened me. Over time, those encounters changed my understanding of fear, appearance, intention, and the complexity of relationships between humans and non-human beings.
Science fiction gave me another framework through which to think about what I experienced. The Day the Earth Stood Still suggested that technologically advanced visitors might judge humanity by how we used nuclear weapons, while Star Trek envisioned a radically different future in which humanity survived its violent adolescence and joined a larger interstellar community.
From 1995 through 1997, I worked as a civilian on Johnston Atoll in the Pacific. My official employment was within a conventional terrestrial framework, while my experiences there revealed another layer of reality that I understood as direct interaction with non-human intelligences and translation or liaison work connected to those contacts.
By then I was no longer asking whether extraterrestrials existed; I wanted to know who they were, why different groups appeared to interact with humanity in different ways, what governments knew, what agreements might exist, and why contact seemed inseparable from consciousness, human origins and the direction of civilization.
Those questions eventually converged with Sasha’s work and with our long study of the material associated with Zecharia Sitchin.
STEWART SWERDLOW, MONTAUK AND CONTACT INSIDE COVERT PROGRAMS
Stewart Swerdlow represents another branch of this history, one in which non-human contact intersects with claims involving Montauk, covert programs, consciousness manipulation, and military experimentation.
Stewart is important to us for another reason: we knew him personally. Sasha and I hosted Stewart in Maui, then traveled to Michigan to visit him and present at his conference. Experiences such as these taught us how much gets lost when controversial people become little more than biographies, labels, or quotations copied repeatedly across the internet.
When you know someone personally, you see the human being between interviews. You share meals, watch how that person interacts with others, hear stories that never reach the stage, and compare what is said privately with what is said publicly.
That does not automatically prove every extraordinary claim, nor should friendship replace discernment, but personal knowledge provides a kind of context that no amount of online commentary can reproduce.
ALEX COLLIER AND THE GALACTIC STORY
Alex Collier carried the contact narrative into a much larger galactic framework through his accounts of childhood contact with beings he identified as Andromedans. Across decades of presentations, he described ancient humanoid civilizations, Reptilian and Draco groups, competing extraterrestrial factions, galactic federations, and interventions in human development.
Material of this kind matters to the broader history because similar structures recur in accounts produced through very different channels. Reptilian intelligences, humanoid civilizations, competing extraterrestrial groups, genetic intervention, galactic councils, and Earth as contested territory appear across contactee narratives, channeling, ancient traditions, and secret-program testimony.
The names vary, while many of the relationships remain surprisingly familiar.
THE HYBRID PROGRAM
Among the most persistent and emotionally complex themes to emerge from experiencer testimony is what many have come to call the hybrid program. Women and men have described reproductive procedures aboard craft, unexplained pregnancies or pregnancy interruptions, the collection of genetic material, encounters with infants or children who appeared partly human and partly non-human, and later experiences in which they believed they were introduced to beings connected with those earlier procedures.
For many experiencers, these events did not occur once and disappear. They unfolded over years or decades and sometimes appeared to continue through family lines, suggesting to those involved that the phenomenon concerned not only individual contact but also reproduction, genetics, inheritance, and the development of new forms of life. Some accounts describe encounters with beings who looked almost entirely human, while others describe children or adults whose appearance combined familiar human traits with features associated with Greys or other non-human groups.
The emotional range of these experiences is enormous. Some experiencers remember fear, violation, loss or grief, especially when reproductive events occurred without their conscious consent, while others describe profound attachment to hybrid children or beings they felt were genetically or spiritually connected to them. In some cases, fear and confusion gradually gave way to a sense of relationship, responsibility or participation in something much larger than the individual encounter.
I include this subject not only because it appears repeatedly in the experiencer literature, but because it is personal. I am among the women who understand their own contact history to include participation in the hybrid program, and over the years I have known and interviewed other women who have described similar experiences. Their stories differ in important details, but enough common elements recur to warrant treating the subject as a distinct branch of modern contact history rather than a footnote under abduction.
A full examination of the hybrid program requires its own article, including the testimony of women and men who lived through these experiences, the reproductive and genetic themes that recur across cases, the reported hybrid children and adults, the psychological and spiritual consequences for experiencers, and the difficult question of whether participation was voluntary, imposed, agreed to at another level of consciousness, or experienced differently at different stages of a person’s life.
Within this century-long history of contact, however, the hybrid accounts mark an important transition. The phenomenon was no longer simply something humanity watched in the sky or encountered beside a landed craft. It had entered the most intimate territory possible: the human body, reproduction, family, identity and the future of the species.
MILABS AND THE SECRET SPACE PROGRAM
By the late twentieth century, another body of testimony had emerged that no longer fit neatly inside either the contactee or abduction category. Some experiencers described encounters in which human military personnel appeared alongside non-human beings, producing the term MILAB, or military abduction, while other witnesses described classified programs involving underground installations, reverse-engineered craft, extraterrestrial cooperation or conflict, and even off-world operations.
The names associated with this broad and controversial field include William Mills Tompkins, Randy Cramer, Corey Goode, Bob Lazar, Phil Schneider, Andrew Basiago and many others whose accounts differ considerably in scope and supporting evidence.
Taken together, however, such testimony changed the central question from whether extraterrestrials visited Earth to whether portions of human military, intelligence and corporate systems had interacted with them for decades.
If even part of that testimony proves accurate, then the secrecy surrounding non-human intelligence concerns something much larger than the existence of unusual craft; it concerns the possibility that technological and political relationships developed outside normal public oversight.
FROM UFO TO UAP: THE GOVERNMENT RETURNS TO AN OLD QUESTION
For decades, public debate became trapped inside a false choice: UFOs were extraterrestrial spacecraft or UFOs did not exist. Yet pilots continued to see unusual objects, radar systems continued to track unexplained phenomena, military personnel continued to report encounters, researchers continued to compile cases, and experiencers continued to describe direct contact.
Eventually the official language changed, and UFO gave way to UAP, a bureaucratically cleaner term that removed decades of cultural baggage without answering the central question.
The modern political turning point came in 2017, when reporting on U.S. Navy encounters and military videos forced the subject back into mainstream public discussion. Congressional hearings followed, military witnesses spoke openly, and later testimony brought allegations involving crash retrievals, reverse engineering, and non-human intelligence directly into political hearings.
For people who had spent decades inside the contact field, the change was extraordinary. Ideas once used as punch lines now appeared in congressional testimony and formal government discussions.
The experiencers had been talking for generations.
Institutions had finally begun to listen.
CONTACT, RELIGION AND HUMAN MEMORY
Once Crowley, Parsons, Hubbard, Adamski, Meier, the abductees, channelers, military witnesses, and modern experiencers are placed on a single timeline, another possibility becomes increasingly difficult to ignore: perhaps humanity has been describing contact for far longer than a century.
Ancient cultures told stories about beings who descended from the sky, established dynasties, delivered laws, imparted knowledge, taught humans agriculture and architecture, fought wars among themselves, and participated in the creation or transformation of humanity.
Over time, encounters could become sacred histories, sacred histories could become religions, and religions could become institutions that preserved the stories while gradually changing the language used to describe the original events.
This is where our work on the Anunnaki intersects with modern contact research. The ancient and modern records may not represent completely separate subjects; they may form different chapters within an immensely long relationship whose interpretation changes with each civilization that experiences it.
A Bronze Age scribe and a twentieth-century pilot would never describe the same technology with identical vocabulary, nor would an ancient priest, an occultist, a military radar operator, and a modern experiencer necessarily use the same language for a non-human intelligence.
Differences in terminology do not automatically imply completely different phenomena.
THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE CASES
One of the central purposes of 100 Years of Contact is to restore something that UFO history often strips away: the people themselves.
Billy Meier is more than a collection of photographs, George Adamski more than a desert encounter, John Mack more than a Harvard credential, Whitley Strieber more than the face on the cover of Communion, Stewart Swerdlow more than Montauk, William Tompkins more than the phrase secret space program, while George and Gillian Green cannot be reduced to a stack of books or a conference biography.
These were human beings with spouses, friendships, children, illnesses, loyalties, contradictions, courage, fear, and lives that continued after the microphones shut off. Some grew tired of repeating experiences that few believed; some changed their interpretations over time; and some remained convinced until the end of their lives that humanity urgently needed to understand what they had witnessed.
George eventually called because he wanted to tell his story one more time. Gillian called me after he was gone. Those moments are also part of the history.
WE WERE THERE TOO
As Sasha and I look back across these decades, one of the strangest realizations is how frequently our own lives crossed those of people whose stories now belong to the historical record.
We studied the works and teachings of Zecharia Sitchin for years and knew Lloyd Pye. George and Gillian Green became our friends after we met at Paola Harris’s StarworksUSA Conference in Laughlin. We hosted Stewart Swerdlow in Maui and later traveled to Michigan. We met contactees, experiencers, researchers, whistleblowers, psychics, scientists, authors and conference organizers while producing hundreds of broadcasts and participating in a community whose ideas gradually moved from the cultural margins toward mainstream discussion.
I brought my lifetime of contact experience into those conversations, while Sasha brought anthropology, psychology, consciousness research and decades of scholarship. We did not agree with everything every guest told us, nor should serious researchers, but we listened, compared accounts, preserved testimony, and searched for patterns that become more visible when these stories are viewed together rather than in isolation.
WHAT A CENTURY OF CONTACT REVEALS
After more than a hundred years of modern reports, no single theory explains every encounter because the phenomenon appears to operate across several dimensions of human experience. Some events leave physical traces, while others occur through consciousness; some involve visible craft and apparently physical beings, while others arrive through telepathy, dreams, or altered states; some contacts feel voluntary and relational, while others involve fear, missing time, or medical procedures.
Military witnesses describe technology, channelers describe cosmology, experiencers describe lifelong relationships, secret-program witnesses describe hidden infrastructures, while ancient traditions preserve narratives that often sound unexpectedly familiar once the language of theology and mythology is translated into the vocabulary of contact.
Perhaps one of the greatest mistakes within UFO research has been the assumption that every form of contact should arrive through the same door.
Reality may have many doors.
The twentieth century spent much of its time asking whether humanity was alone, although after a century of accumulated testimony that question has become too small. The more difficult questions concern who these intelligences are, how many different groups may be involved, how long they have interacted with humanity, what relationships exist among them, why some encounters appear cooperative while others do not, what governments have learned, and why contact so often intersects with consciousness, spirituality, nuclear weapons, environmental danger and human evolution.
Disclosure may never arrive as a single president standing behind a podium and announcing that we are not alone. It may have been unfolding person by person for generations, through witnesses whose stories seemed isolated until we finally placed them side by side.
Aleister Crowley drew Lam before the modern Grey alien became a cultural archetype. Jack Parsons explored occult gateways while helping humanity develop rockets. L. Ron Hubbard participated in Parsons’ occult world before creating a movement whose cosmology extended far beyond Earth. Billy Meier placed his first contact in 1942. Kenneth Arnold watched extraordinary objects cross the sky in 1947, while Roswell brought the UFO question into national security. George Adamski reported meeting Orthon in the California desert, Betty and Barney Hill brought missing time and involuntary contact into public consciousness, Travis Walton disappeared and returned five days later, and Meier produced an enormous archive of photographs and contact reports.
George Green saw an extraordinary craft at Edwards Air Force Base, encountered the Meier photographs decades later, financed publication of Meier material, traveled to Switzerland, met Billy, and eventually became our friend. Whitley Strieber gave the experiencer a cultural face, John Mack gave experiencers a serious hearing, William Tompkins described a hidden aerospace history, Stewart Swerdlow connected contact with covert-program narratives, Alex Collier placed humanity inside a larger galactic story, while thousands of other people whose names never became famous continued to report encounters of their own.
For most of the twentieth century, society treated these people as unrelated anomalies.
Placed in chronological order, they begin to form a history, and that history may represent the opening century of modern humanity’s recognition that Earth has never existed in isolation from a larger inhabited reality.
The task before us has therefore changed. We are moving beyond the question of whether contact is possible and toward the much larger challenge of understanding the relationship.
GEORGE GREEN: BIOGRAPHICAL PROFILE
George Green (1939–June 2019) was an American businessman, investment banker, securities professional, real-estate developer, publisher, UFO researcher, and lecturer whose later life was devoted to extraterrestrial contact, consciousness, and the dissemination of Handbook for the New Paradigm and related works.
Public biographies describe Green as having studied geophysics at the Colorado School of Mines and law and business at the University of Illinois. He worked as a registered financial principal, broker-dealer, securities underwriter, real estate developer, insurance broker, and publisher, and served as president of Global Insights, Inc. He appeared on numerous radio and television programs and lectured widely on extraterrestrial contact and what he called “The Big Picture.”
Green became widely associated with Handbook for the New Paradigm, Embracing the Rainbow and Becoming, books he presented as communications intended to help humanity move beyond fear and victim consciousness toward greater responsibility and awareness. An internet edition of Handbook for the New Paradigm was made available in 1999 with Green’s permission.
Public memorial records consistently give George Green’s lifespan as 1939–2019, while Janet and Sasha Lessin’s EnkiSpeaks archive records his passing in June 2019. An exact day and month of birth have not yet been located in a source we consider reliable enough to publish as fact.
Born: 1939
Died: June 2019
Fields: Finance, securities, real-estate development, publishing, UFO/contact research
Organization: Global Insights, Inc.
Known for: Handbook for the New Paradigm, “The Big Picture,” Billy Meier publishing involvement, UFO/contact lectures and interviews
WHY THIS SEARCH BECAME PERSONAL
For me, this history has never been purely academic. I have been an experiencer for as long as I can remember, with memories of contact reaching back to the crib and a lifelong sense that some of these relationships may extend even further, perhaps across other lifetimes. Throughout my life, I have encountered beings I understood as extraterrestrial, interdimensional, and spirit presences, and because those experiences began so early, I grew up trying to determine whether what I was seeing and sensing belonged to an external reality, to some hidden dimension of consciousness, or to something within myself that I did not yet understand.
Like many experiencers, I wanted proof, not because I needed the experiences to become more dramatic, but because I wanted some way to validate what was already happening. There were periods when I wondered whether I might be imagining everything or even losing my mind, yet rather than accept that conclusion without investigation, I began looking for other people who had lived through similar events. If someone described ghosts, unusual beings, telepathic contact, or strange phenomena, I listened closely, compared details, and searched for patterns that might tell me I was not alone in what I had experienced.
One encounter from childhood remains especially vivid because of what I remember and, perhaps even more, because of what I do not. I was probably five or six years old, and I had decided to head home through my cousin’s backyard toward the alley rather than take the front way. I remember having the distinct feeling that I was defying my mother and quietly dismissing what I took to be her irrational fear. That was unusual for me because, as a child, I generally listened to Mommy. She was a wise woman, and I trusted her judgment.
I made an exception that day. As I moved through the yard and came past the tree, I suddenly found myself facing a single enormous orb. It was brilliantly orange, close enough and large enough that it seemed to loom directly in front of me. I did not feel terror. What I remember is shock and surprise, because I had not expected anything to be there, followed almost immediately by the realization that my mother’s concern might not have been irrational after all.
That realization carried another emotion: guilt. I had deliberately ignored her wishes, and now I was confronting something on the very route she had not wanted me to take. I still have the strong sense that, had I gone home the front way as she wanted, I would not have had that encounter.
What remains especially powerful in memory is my mother’s face. I do not clearly remember her explaining the danger in words, but I remember the fear in her eyes, and that expression communicated more than a warning might have. Looking back, I have the sense that she knew or feared something about that route that I did not yet understand.
The strangest part comes immediately afterward, because the memory simply stops. I can remember deciding to take the forbidden way home, moving past the tree, seeing the immense orange orb and feeling the shock of realizing that perhaps my mother had been right. When I try to move beyond that moment, however, I find only a blank.
I do not want to manufacture an ending simply because an ending is missing. After all these years, I can say only that the memory stops there.
Even now, writing about the encounter brings a physical response: chills and tears close to the surface, although not fear. What returns is the emotional weight of the moment—the surprise of seeing something impossible where nothing should have been, the guilt of having ignored my mother, and the recognition that one of the people I trusted most may have understood more about the situation than I did.
As I grew older, I became less willing simply to experience unusual phenomena and move on. I wanted witnesses, comparison, and some form of independent confirmation, and I sometimes turned that search into an experiment. I invited friends to sleep over at my home in the hope that they might witness the same ghosts or unusual activity I had seen, because another person observing the phenomenon independently meant far more to me than reassurance alone. Not everyone saw something, but several people did, and over the years enough visitors had their own experiences that the stories apparently circulated among our friends. Some people began asking for invitations to see for themselves, while others reacted in the opposite way and made it very clear they wanted no part of it.
Long before the term CE-5 entered popular use, I was also experimenting with intentional contact, although I did not think of it in those terms at the time. During the 1960s, I developed my own way of testing whether the strange lights I had been seeing were really there and whether other people would perceive them independently.
I would invite a friend to go for a walk without explaining my real purpose. Sometimes we were gone for hours, wandering up toward Bellevue, past the wall at the elementary school and eventually down toward Birmingham Avenue, which ran up and down the hill and crossed several streets along the way. By the time we reached the area I had in mind, it was often close to what I had come to think of as the “right time.”
If the lights appeared, I deliberately avoided telling my companion what I was seeing. Instead, I would point toward them and ask a simple question: “What do you see?” I wanted the other person’s description before I offered mine, because I was trying to determine whether the observation existed independently of my expectations.
They saw them.
The objects appeared as enormous luminous orbs, generally in groups of three, although their colors were not always the same. At various times we saw blue, green, red, yellow, orange and purple, with the particular combination changing from one appearance to another. What remained remarkably consistent was the pattern of three.
That repetition puzzled me then and still puzzles me now. I never found a conventional explanation that satisfied me, nor did I encounter reports from people outside our own circle describing precisely the same recurring phenomenon over Neville Island. Yet within our group, the observations were shared. Different people saw the lights, described them before I told them what I saw, and acknowledged afterward that something unusual had happened.
What may have been even stranger was what happened next: almost nothing. After witnessing something that seemed extraordinary, most people had very little interest in discussing it again. They admitted what they had seen, but the curiosity I expected rarely followed. Some seemed uncomfortable with the subject, while others appeared content to place the experience somewhere at the edge of memory and return to ordinary life.
Years passed, and I kept waiting for someone else to become as interested in solving the mystery as I was, but there were very few takers. I wanted to know what those lights were, why they appeared so often in threes, why they seemed to arrive at particular times and why other people could see them when I brought them to the right place. Instead, one of the most persistent lessons of my early experiences was that seeing something extraordinary does not necessarily make a person want to investigate it.
That silence stayed with me and, in many ways, became part of the mystery itself. People could witness something that challenged their assumptions about reality and then return to ordinary life without wanting to examine it further. For decades, that pattern seemed to recur throughout the contact field, as witnesses remained quiet because they feared ridicule, professional consequences, social rejection, or the possibility that simply talking about what they had seen would make others question their judgment.
Now, fifty or sixty years later, the cultural landscape has changed dramatically. Pilots speak publicly, experiencers compare stories across the world, scientists discuss consciousness and anomalous phenomena, governments hold hearings on UAP, and terms such as nonhuman intelligence appear in places where they would once have been unthinkable. Experiences that people whispered about in kitchens, bedrooms, and backyards during my childhood are now part of a much larger public conversation.
That change excites me because openness creates possibilities that secrecy and ridicule never could. The more people feel free to report what they have seen without automatically being dismissed, the more evidence we can compare, the more patterns we can identify, and the better chance we have of understanding what these phenomena actually represent. I spent much of my life searching for others who had seen what I had seen; now we live in a time when they can find one another almost instantly.
Years later, when Sasha and I began interviewing experiencers, contactees, researchers and witnesses, that lifelong search found a new form. I was no longer merely looking for confirmation of my own experiences; I was helping preserve the testimony of others who had spent years asking many of the same questions. In that sense, 100 Years of Contact is not separate from my personal history. It grows directly from it, from a lifetime spent trying to understand what I encountered and from the realization that one of the best ways to approach the mystery is to listen carefully to the people who have lived through it themselves.
After all these decades, I remain curious rather than finished with the question. If people were able to witness so much when the subject was still hidden beneath ridicule and silence, I can only imagine what we may discover now that more of us are willing to look, compare experiences and speak openly about what we have seen.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
JANET KIRA LESSIN
Janet Kira Lessin is an author, broadcaster, experiencer, researcher, and co-founder of Aquarian Media whose work explores extraterrestrial contact, consciousness, human origins, ancient civilizations, and the relationship between humanity and non-human intelligence. Her interest in contact began through experiences she traces to childhood rather than through later study of UFO literature, and those experiences became the foundation for decades of research into contactees, experiencers, MILABS, extraterrestrial civilizations, and the Anunnaki.
From 1995 through 1997, Janet worked as a civilian on Johnston Atoll in the Pacific, where she describes direct interactions and communication with non-human intelligences. Through Aquarian Media and related programs, she has interviewed hundreds of researchers, experiencers, authors, whistleblowers, and contact witnesses, while she and Sasha Lessin have also hosted conferences, spoken publicly, and preserved firsthand testimony from many figures within the modern contact field.
Janet writes and publishes through Dragon at the End of Time, Enki Speaks and Aquarian Media, where her work combines personal experience, historical investigation and the continuing search for humanity’s place within a larger inhabited cosmos.
SASHA ALEX LESSIN, PH.D.
Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D., is an anthropologist, psychologist, author, educator, and consciousness researcher whose work combines anthropology, psychology, comparative religion, mythology, human origins, extraterrestrial-contact research, and the study of ancient accounts associated with the Anunnaki.
He earned graduate degrees in anthropology and psychology, and a Ph.D. in anthropology from UCLA; his work has included consciousness research, experiential psychology, and the examination of alternative models of human history. Together with Janet Kira Lessin, he has spent decades studying ancient Mesopotamian traditions, modern contact testimony, and the writings associated with Zecharia Sitchin.
Through Aquarian Media, Sasha and Janet have interviewed researchers, experiencers, and witnesses from across the UFO, consciousness, and ancient-history fields while developing a body of books, articles, broadcasts, and presentations exploring humanity’s possible relationship with extraterrestrial and non-human intelligences.
JANET KIRA LESSIN & SASHA ALEX LESSIN, PH.D.
Together, Janet Kira Lessin and Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D., combine firsthand experience testimony with anthropology, psychology, consciousness studies, ancient history research, and decades of interviews with people from across the contact field. Their work through Aquarian Media examines modern extraterrestrial encounters alongside ancient narratives of contact and human origins, with particular attention to the Anunnaki and the possibility that humanity’s relationship with non-human intelligence extends much farther into the past than modern UFO history usually acknowledges.
Their websites include:
DragonAtTheEndOfTime.com
EnkiSpeaks.com
AquarianMedia.org
BELLS & WHISTLES
SEO TITLE
100 YEARS OF CONTACT: From Aleister Crowley, Roswell and Billy Meier to George Green, Experiencers, Secret Programs and Disclosure
META DESCRIPTION
Janet Kira Lessin and Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D., trace more than a century of extraterrestrial and non-human contact from Aleister Crowley, Jack Parsons, Roswell, and the early contactees through Billy Meier, George Green, John Mack, experiencers, secret programs, and the modern disclosure era.
WEBSITE EXCERPT
For more than a century, people have described encounters with intelligences beyond ordinary human society. Janet Kira Lessin and Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D., trace the modern contact story from Aleister Crowley and Jack Parsons through Roswell, George Adamski, Billy Meier, George Green, experiencers, covert programs, and today’s NHI disclosure debate, while adding their own firsthand friendships and experiences within the contact community.
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100 Years of Contact, extraterrestrial contact, ET contact, non-human intelligence, NHI, UFOs, UAP, experiencers, contactees, alien contact, George Green, Gillian Green, Billy Meier, Wendelle Stevens, George Adamski, Aleister Crowley, Lam, Jack Parsons, L. Ron Hubbard, Babalon Working, William Mills Tompkins, Kenneth Arnold, Roswell, Betty and Barney Hill, Travis Walton, Whitley Strieber, John Mack, Stewart Swerdlow, Alex Collier, Janet Kira Lessin, Sasha Alex Lessin, Aquarian Media, StarworksUSA, Paola Harris, Laughlin Nevada, Aquarius Hotel, Anunnaki, Ninmah, Pleiadians, Greys, Reptilians, Draco, MILABS, secret space program, UFO disclosure, UAP disclosure, consciousness, human origins, extraterrestrials, Dragon at the End of Time, Enki Speaks
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#100YearsOfContact #ExtraterrestrialContact #Experiencers #GeorgeGreen #BillyMeier #GillianGreen #UFO #UAP #NHI #AlienContact #Contactees #Roswell #JohnMack #Anunnaki #Ninmah #SecretSpaceProgram #MILABS #AquarianMedia #JanetKiraLessin #SashaAlexLessin #DragonAtTheEndOfTime #EnkiSpeaks
COMING SOON IN THIS SERIES
100 Years of Contact opens with a sequence of thirty articles leading up to the centennial of the first modern sighting recorded by a credentialed Western observer, which falls on 5 August 2027. Each article stands on its own, and together they carry one question across a century.
The Frame
Everything We Know, Someone Told Us. Why a history of contact has to begin with the people who reported it, and what it costs to hold four explanations open at once.
The Year America Listened. August 1924, when the United States Navy asked American radio stations to fall silent so an astronomer could listen for Mars.
Something Big and Shiny. Seven men, a set of field glasses, and a Tibetan sky in 1927. The sighting that anchors the century, and the date error that hid it for sixty years.
The Oldest Paperwork. Sumerian wombs, the Watchers of Enoch, and the Celtic changeling record. The hybrid claim has five thousand years of documentation behind it.
The Founding Cases
The Farmer at São Francisco de Sales. Brazil, October 1957. He became a lawyer, raised four children, and, for thirty years, declined to profit from the strangest night of his life.
Route 3, Part One: The Night. September 1961. Two people, a light over the White Mountains, and a drive home that took longer than it should have.
Route 3, Part Two: The Tapes. A Boston psychiatrist, seven months of regression, and a doctor who concluded the memory held emotional rather than literal truth and released the recordings anyway.
Route 3, Part Three: The Schoolteacher and the Stars. An Ohio classroom, a living-room model of the local stellar neighborhood, and the most testable work anyone performed on the founding case.
The First Hybrid Children. Two women in the 1950s, one in South Africa and one in Birmingham, who claimed to have offspring decades before anyone assembled a program from it.
The Woman Who Kept Her Faith. Fifty-five years of unbroken account, held alongside a Christian faith her own church would have set against it.
The Seventies
Two Men on the Pascagoula River. One talked from the first night. The other said nothing for forty years, published at last, and lived five more.
Six Witnesses and a Logging Crew. Arizona, November 1975. Five days missing, and a crew that took polygraphs.
Four Men and Four Samples. Maine, August 1976. Tissue taken from all four, regressed independently twelve years later.
Unsuitable as a Specimen. Three cases in which the entities used the language of stock assessment, and one that ties the mutilation record to the abduction record.
The Hybrid Question
The Painter Who Assembled the Argument. How scattered accounts became a program, and the charge that the researcher supplied the framework his subjects then described.
She Took Her Story Back. Thirty-four years as somebody else’s chapter, and the book that ended it.
Communion. 1987, and a novelist who skipped the researcher and published his own account. What that cost him.
The Woman Who Said It Was a Lie. Three books, one argument, and a death at forty-eight. The strongest internal dissent the hybrid thesis ever produced.
The Darkest Reading. A Temple University historian brought the program to its bleakest conclusion and lost allies in the process.
Witnessed. Manhattan, November 1989, and a teaching case about how to weigh testimony nobody can settle.
The Evidence
The Hair on the Bench. Sydney, 1992. The one place the genetic question met an actual laboratory instrument.
What the Sky Did to Betty Cash. Texas, December 1980. Radiation injury, a court that declined to hear it, and a woman who died of what happened that night.
Sixty-Two Children. Ruwa, Zimbabwe, September 1994. A Harvard psychiatrist flew in and interviewed them. They are adults now, and several still speak.
What Harvard Did. The committee convened to review John Mack, his survival of it, and what every experiencer has since owed him.
The Present
The Ones Who Say They Are Hybrids. A population that stopped waiting for researchers to interpret them.
Crescent. Sixty years of contact rendered in several hundred paintings by a man nobody would let speak.
Four Thousand Experiencers. The largest quantitative dataset the field holds, and what the numbers actually show.
The Academy Reopens the Door. A Stanford immunologist, an anthropologist, a religious studies scholar, and a law professor arguing for rigorous experiencer research.
The Silence of the Prominent. Presidents, senators, admirals, and astronauts reported lights and stopped there. Farmers, postal clerks, loggers, and schoolchildren carried the rest.
One Hundred Years, Four Doors. The closer, timed to the centennial. We return to the question and decline to shut any of it.
Companion Pieces
The Witness as Author. The experiencers who reclaimed their own accounts from the researchers who first published them.
Researchers and Presenters. The people who built the archive, ran the tape, and kept the record in print when nobody else would.
The Counter-Argument. Why the phenomenon always seems to wear the costume of the current decade, and what survives that objection.
In Memoriam. Released as anniversaries warrant. We name them one at a time.
This work rests on the testimony of people who spoke when speaking cost them. We name them, we thank them, and we hold their accounts in their own words.
