| Psychics and Spooks
: How spoon-benders fought the cold war by
Gregory Vistica
Before
last week, most people probably thought all the
really important psychics worked for the National
Enquirer. Then came the news that the U.S.
military and the CIA ran Operation Stargate -- a
two-decade-long project in which a team of
government psychics "visualized"
everything from the identities of KGB agents to
the design of top-secret Soviet submarines. At
the program's peak in the late '70's and early
'80's, the Feds had six of these "remote
viewers" -- known inside as The Naturals --
toiling away at Maryland's Fort Meade. "We
worked hard, really hard," said Agent
"518," a former army lieutenant colonel
who had joined the elite psychic corps. "It
was really tiring."
And
apparently unappreciated. Last week the CIA
recommended killing the program. Since the
1970's, the CIA and the Defense Department had
spent $20 million employing at least 16 psychics.
To justify the cost, advocates within the
government cite apparent successes like the time
Agent 518 lay down on a cot, cleansed his mind
and proceeded to tell CIA agents precisely how a
KGB operative in South Africa was transmitting
information through a personal calculator.
Psychics later interviewed by CIA evaluators said
the program worked really well--as long as it was
run by officials "who accepted the
phenomenon." But Ray Hyman, a research
psychologist who helped review Stargate for the
CIA, is wary. "I don't close the door on
anything," Hyman told Newsweek, "but
these are nice tall stories that can't be
evaluated."
In
typical cold-war fashion, the initiative began
when the CIA concluded that the Soviets were
dangerously far ahead of the United States in the
use of the paranormal. Unless swift action was
taken, American officials reasoned, we might
never close the psychic gap. At first,
programsupporters say, the military used only the
highest quality psychics. Joe McMoneagle, an army
intelligence officer, discovered that the CIA
would pay him to sit in a room and use his powers
to draw pictures of prospective Soviet
submarines. He impressed the military brass by
diagramming a key communist sub and predicting
(within a month) when it would emerge from its
secret hiding place. In 1984, McMoneagle left the
army to work as a civilian psychic consultant and
was awarded the Legion of Merit for
"providing information on 150 targets that
was unavailable from other sources."
How
seriously did the government take all this? One
skeptical CIA officer became less dismissive
after one of Stargate's psychics predicted that
an American official would be kidnapped on a
certain day in 1981 -- and Gen. James L. Dozier
was abducted in Italy that night. "I became
convinced something was there," the CIA
official says, "but I didn't understand
it." He took to calling these episodes
"eight-martini nights."
But
by the mid-1980's, McMoneagle says, the military
started letting any old "kook" into
Stargate. There was the senior general (yes,
general) who would call subordinates in for
special spoon-bending sessions. One Pentagon
consultant working at SRI International wrote a
10-page report predicting a massive air attack on
Washington during one of Reagan's State of the
Union addresses. When the gulf war began,
Stargate offered several suggestions about
capturing Saddam Hussein, all of which proved
useless. And one "remote viewer" left
the army when he became convinced there was a
Martian colony hidden beneath the new Mexico
desert.
Despite
Stargate's mixed record, persistent support on
Capitol Hill kept it going. Although no lawmakers
would admit to being fans, Pentagon officials say
lawmakers like Claiborne Pell and Charlie Rose
used to resist efforts to kill the paranormal
program. Advocates point out that flummoxed
police sometimes call on psychics to help find
missing children or identify serial killers.
Defenders admit that psychics are wrong about 80
percent of the time, but say the other 20 percent
can be really helpful. Given the recent troubles
plaguing American spy agencies, maybe that's not
such a bad batting average.
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