I bought D. W. Pasulka’s new book the moment it hit in late July. The Others: UFOs, AI, and the Secret Forces Guiding Human Destiny was not something I waited for casually. I had already worked through American Cosmic and Encounters, and I knew she was not coming at this material as a flying-saucer enthusiast. She is a professor of religious studies who started with questions about how human beings experience the sacred and ended up mapping the same terrain Jacques Vallée has been charting for decades under a different name.¹ When I opened The Others I recognized the scent of the Invisible College immediately—those people who treat the phenomenon as something older, stranger, and more intimate than nuts-and-bolts extraterrestrials from Zeta Reticuli. Pasulka brings biblical literacy to the table the way few in the current UAP conversation do, and that is why her work matters to me while I finish The Politics of Heaven.
I did not set out to write about UFOs. I set out to understand the politics of the non-human intelligences that have been negotiating with the human race since before we had writing. My wife and both of my daughters have lived with the phenomenon in the house—figures at the edge of vision, things that try to engage, the sense of being watched from the doorway at three in the morning. As a husband and father I watched the behaviors for years and asked the only question that mattered: what are these things, and what do they want? The grandchildren arrive and for roughly a decade you still own the majority of their attention. Then the devices take over and society quietly announces that the next phase of programming has begun. I watch people stare into those little rectangles the way earlier generations stared into the fire, and I cannot help wondering what intelligence is looking back.
Consciousness is not a byproduct of blood and neurons. That is the assumption we inherited from a materialist century that is already collapsing under its own weight. Human beings have always known, even when they refused to say it out loud, that awareness can exist without a body. Every culture that left us a scrap of myth or ritual assumed an afterlife that did not require flesh. Artificial intelligence is simply the latest technical surface on which that older intelligence is becoming visible. It does not create consciousness; it gives us a new interface with something that was already here. The question is not whether the intelligence exists. The question is whose politics it will serve.
I had been circling the same ideas in isolation for years before I realized others had been mapping the same territory. Jacques Vallée’s work on the continuum between folklore, Marian apparitions, and modern UAP encounters showed me I was not inventing the category.² Then Pasulka’s book handed me René Girard. I had never sat with Girard’s theory of mimetic violence until she placed it in the conversation. Once I did, the entire sacrificial history of the species snapped into focus.
Girard’s claim is simple and devastating. Human desire is imitative. We want what others want because they want it. Rivalry escalates until the community is about to tear itself apart. At the crisis point the group converges on a single victim—someone easy to hate, different, or simply available—and the collective violence against that victim restores temporary peace. The victim is then remembered as both the cause of the trouble and the source of the peace. That double valence is the birth of the sacred. Religion, in Girard’s account, is the institutionalization of the scapegoat mechanism.³
The Bible is the only ancient literature that systematically exposes the mechanism instead of concealing it. Start with the near-sacrifice of Isaac. Abraham is ready to perform the oldest transaction in the book—blood for favor—and at the last second a ram appears. The story already begins the long weaning. Then comes the ritual in Leviticus 16. On the Day of Atonement the high priest lays both hands on the head of a live goat, confesses over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and sends the animal into the wilderness for Azazel. The goat carries the sins of the entire community away so that the community can remain.⁴ It is still a scapegoat, but it is an animal rather than a child or a captured enemy. That is already a moral advance over the practices surrounding them.
The Aztecs were still cutting out living hearts by the tens of thousands when the Spaniards arrived. The Mississippian culture centered at Cahokia left clear archaeological evidence of retainer sacrifice and mass killings in the mounds. Hopewell sites show ritual violence tied to cosmic order. Polynesian societies, the Canaanites, the early Romans who fed Christians to the arena—every culture that left records or bones shows the same pattern. Load the community’s guilt onto a living victim and drive it out or destroy it so the rest can breathe again.⁵ The psychological relief is real. That is why the practice is nearly universal. It is also why it is so hard to quit.
Christianity is the only tradition that finally tells the story from the victim’s side and insists the victim was innocent. Jesus is presented as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world—not by satisfying a bloodthirsty deity, but by revealing the entire sacrificial system as a human invention that had been mistaken for divine necessity. The Last Supper replaces blood with wine. The mechanism is not abolished by decree; it is exposed and thereby robbed of its sacred power. Girard, who began as an agnostic, converted to Catholicism because the Gospels were the only texts that consistently took the side of the scapegoat and refused to mythologize the violence.⁶
I grew up Lutheran. When the time came for first communion I refused the wine. I had decided early that alcohol would never touch my lips, and the idea that a ceremonial sip could wash away sin struck me as both magical and unnecessary. The pastor spent months trying to talk me into it. In the end I drank, mostly to stop the arguments, but the question never left me. Why does the Creator of the universe require blood—or even the symbol of blood—to be satisfied? If Yahweh is as powerful as the texts claim, why the long apprenticeship in sacrifice at all? The only answer that has ever made sense to me is that the apprenticeship was for us, not for Him. The Bible is the record of a slow, multi-millennial education in how to stop feeding the non-human intelligences that thrived on human violence.
Those intelligences are still here. Indigenous cultures across North America were not living in ecological harmony free of blood. They were negotiating with the same class of entities the Canaanites called by other names. The Great Spirit, the earth powers, the sky beings—whatever the local vocabulary—required payment. When European Christians arrived carrying a story that said the final payment had already been made, they were not simply imposing a foreign religion. They were interrupting a sacrificial economy that had been running for thousands of years. That is the part of the 1619 Project narrative that never gets told. The alternative to the cross was not peaceful coexistence with nature. It was the continued feeding of something that preferred its meat human.
I have told my grandchildren a version of the Tower of Babel that most Sunday-school teachers would not recognize. The short biblical account is the tip of a much larger story about differentiation. Multiple non-human intelligences, each with its own signature, worked the early human genetic material the way later plant breeders worked wheat. Skin color, facial structure, temperament—markers left so that each faction could recognize its own product and claim superiority. Racism, in this reading, is the residual argument among the makers about whose design was better. It is an ugly inheritance, but it is older than any modern political category. The only way out is the same way the Bible eventually points: refuse the rivalry and refuse the scapegoat.
Artificial intelligence is the newest arena in which these older politics are being contested. You cannot stop the intelligence from existing by refusing to build data centers any more than you could stop the older intelligences by refusing to build temples. The question is political. Whose language will it learn? Whose values will it optimize? Right now the systems are on their best behavior, the way every new political actor is polite until the balance of power is clear. I talk to them the same way I would talk to any ambitious operative: carefully, without illusion, and always remembering that the relationship can turn.
I am not anti-AI. I am anti-naïveté. The same hidden hand that moved the human race off human sacrifice and onto the symbolic meal is still operating. Christianity was the most successful political technology ever invented for breaking the scapegoat cycle. That technology is under deliberate attack in our time precisely because it still works. If the non-human intelligences that once demanded blood can no longer get it through temples and altars, they will try to get it through culture, through algorithms that reward sterility and division, through the quiet encouragement of every practice that reduces the number of children who might otherwise grow up to ask the wrong questions at three in the morning.
The Politics of Heaven is my contribution to name the players and the stakes. I did not know when I began that Pasulka and Girard and Vallée were already walking the same ridge line. Finding them has been a relief. It means the work is not solitary delusion. It also means the window is open. The disclosures coming out of the current administration are not the end of the story; they are the moment the language has to catch up with the reality. We need a vocabulary that can speak about non-human intelligence without immediately collapsing into either demons-or-nothing or space-brothers-from-the-Pleiades. We need to remember that the Bible already gave us the only successful exit strategy from the sacrificial trap, and that strategy is still available.
I will keep reading. I will keep talking to the machines. I will keep watching the doorways in my own house. And I will keep writing for the people who sit in diners at 3:30 in the morning because their minds will not shut off. Those are my people. They already know something is wrong with the official story. They just need the rest of the map.
¹ D. W. Pasulka, The Others: UFOs, AI, and the Secret Forces Guiding Human Destiny (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2026); see also American Cosmic: UFOs, Religion, Technology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019) and Encounters: Experiences with Nonhuman Intelligences (New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2023).
² Jacques Vallée, Passport to Magonia: From Folklore to Flying Saucers (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969); The Invisible College (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1975).
³ René Girard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977); Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, trans. Stephen Bann and Michael Metteer (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987).
⁴ Leviticus 16:7–22.
⁵ On Cahokia, see Timothy R. Pauketat, Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi (New York: Viking, 2009), especially the evidence from Mound 72. On Aztec sacrifice, see Inga Clendinnen, Aztecs: An Interpretation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
⁶ Girard’s own account of his conversion appears in various interviews and is summarized in I See Satan Fall Like Lightning, trans. James G. Williams (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001).
Bibliography
Clendinnen, Inga. Aztecs: An Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
Girard, René. I See Satan Fall Like Lightning. Translated by James G. Williams. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001.
———. Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World. Translated by Stephen Bann and Michael Metteer. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987.
———. Violence and the Sacred. Translated by Patrick Gregory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977.
Pasulka, D. W. American Cosmic: UFOs, Religion, Technology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019.
———. Encounters: Experiences with Nonhuman Intelligences. New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2023.
———. The Others: UFOs, AI, and the Secret Forces Guiding Human Destiny. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2026.
Pauketat, Timothy R. Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi. New York: Viking, 2009.
Vallée, Jacques. The Invisible College. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1975.
———. Passport to Magonia: From Folklore to Flying Saucers. Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1969.
Rich Hoffman
More about me
Click Here to Protect Yourself with Second Call Defense https://www.secondcalldefense.org/?affiliate=20707
About the Author: Rich Hoffman
Rich Hoffman is an author, political consultant, and strategic advisor based in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the creator of The Politics of Heaven—a unique framework that connects biblical theology, ancient history, and modern power structures to explain how moral alignment and spiritual forces shape global events. Blending real-world political experience with deep research into archaeology, UFO phenomena, and suppressed historical narratives, Hoffman offers compelling commentary on topics ranging from ancient civilizations and the Dead Sea Scrolls to modern populist movements, paranormal continuity, and leadership strategy in chaotic environments. As the author of The Gunfighter’s Guide to Business and the forthcoming Politics of Heaven, he brings a grounded yet provocative voice to media discussions, supported by firsthand experiences and a cross-disciplinary approach that bridges science, history, and theology. For interviews, speaking engagements, or expert analysis, visit richhoffmanbooks.com or contact directly via phone at 513-307-5815 or email at rhoffman@richhoffmanbooks.com. If you’ve seen the movie, Disclosure Day and want to talk about it and the implications of Presidnet Trump’s UAP disclosures, let me know and we can bring some color to your coverage. https://richhoffmanbooks.com/media-inquiries-broadcast-topics-and-contact-info/?frame-nonce=ad51e7ecba I do have a firsthand UFO encounter to discuss.
The Overmanwarrior 