Army Remote Viewer on Hundreds of UFOs, Robots, and Death

"Joe, so nice to officially meet you." The host, Michael Phillip, has a confession to make before the recording gets going: he met his guest briefly at an event called the Gateway, and he suspects the handshake was lost in a blur of faces. McMoneagle's reply is dry. "15 years of them." It is a small, human opening to a three-hour conversation recorded in person at the Monroe Institute on Robert Monroe's birthday, and it sets the tone for everything that follows: a man who spent years in classified military work, talking openly about Cold War espionage, out-of-body exploration, near-death experiences, and a belief that many of the beings reported in UFOs are not what they appear to be. This article draws on that episode, published on the Third Eye Drops channel, and works through the ideas McMoneagle lays out, including the parts that are his personal conclusions rather than settled findings.

What did a remote viewer actually see when he targeted UFOs?

The episode's most arresting claim arrives in its first minutes. McMoneagle says that he served in Stargate for seven and a half years, that he was the last remote viewer left in the program at the time he was speaking of, and that he has targeted hundreds of UFOs. His account of what he encountered is precise about what he did not find. "Never saw an entity in any of them," he told Third Eye Drops in the conversation.

He then complicates that statement in the same breath. He did see beings, he says, and he uses the word aliens because, in his words, there is no other word to use. But he is clear that they are not aliens in any meaningful sense. "What they are, they're robots. Every entity I've ever seen in a UFO, except for one UFO, are all robots." He ties that conclusion to the sheer number of targets he worked and to certain mysteries the Department of Defense asked him to look into. The episode's own description frames the belief the same way: that many apparent UFO occupants are biological robots, grown, programmed, and deployed by something else.

It is worth pausing on the epistemics here. McMoneagle is describing a body of targeting work that he says was tasked by the military, and he is interpreting it. A reader can take the operational history seriously while still recognizing that the leap from "I perceived these entities" to "they are grown and programmed" is his inference, and the episode presents it as such.

Why does McMoneagle say we should be talking about ourselves?

The more striking turn is not about the visitors. It is about us. McMoneagle says he has come to a conclusion that he "has a sense" of: that humans are not originally from this planet. From that, he offers a reframing. "When people talk about aliens, we should be talking about ourselves."

He does not elaborate on the origin story in the excerpt available here, and it would be a mistake to fill that gap with speculation. What the conversation does establish is the mood of his thinking: that the question of who we are is open, and that the usual split between "us" and "them" may be the wrong frame. The episode's broader theme, stated in its description, is what McMoneagle calls humanity sharing Earth with an older intelligence.

The conversation then moves to the political side of remote viewing. McMoneagle says that "the more of that you do, the more of a threat you become to your own nation." The speakers link this to the reason the program was closed, with one of them suggesting that if a person can point awareness at one place, they can point it anywhere, and that this capacity is dangerous to the institutions that want to control information. The episode treats this as a reflection on the stakes of the work rather than an established account of why Stargate ended, and the distinction matters.

What does "one world" mean for personal responsibility?

Before any of the classified material, McMoneagle answers the host's opening question about how his sense of reality has changed. His answer is a kind of philosophy of self. Most people, he says, assume they live in a shared world. But each person is in a world of their own, and we only ever meet one another for a sliver of time. "The only world you're in charge of is yours."

From that starting point, he draws a conclusion that he admits most people resist: "everything that happens to you, good, bad, or indifferent, you are the cause of it." He is careful to say that actions affect others too, but the primary effect is on the self. The host presses the point: he has read McMoneagle's books and watched his interviews, and he believes the teacher means this at a deeper level than the usual "you make your own luck" slogan. McMoneagle agrees. He describes how we receive what happens to us and how we respond, and that a person can either try to improve or try to fix what is happening. What he rejects is the excuse. "We certainly can't say I'm in this mood because the world is crappy."

"It's what you do with it." — Joe McMoneagle, in conversation with Michael Phillip on Third Eye Drops

This is the bridge to the episode's larger questions about the self. If each person is their own world, then what is the self that holds it? That is where the host turns, asking what McMoneagle thinks the higher or total self is, beyond the mortal body.

How does the life review work, according to McMoneagle?

McMoneagle is honest that no one can definitively answer this from experience. "Nobody's actually been dead a long time and come back," he says, and those who have returned often do not remember where they were or who they were. So he turns to near-death reports. People who come close to death sometimes describe reviewing their entire life in seconds, and McMoneagle takes that seriously rather than dismissing it as impossible.

His explanation is a model of how experience is stored. In life, he says, we are creating time and space at once. When those two are married together, they produce a location, and that location and event do not go away. Each reaction we have to something gives a fixed point with a specific date, time, and place. Over a lifetime, these points accumulate into something that looks like a wire diagram, held together by a series of connections.

"It's held together only with that tack weld. The tack weld being your experience." — Joe McMoneagle, Third Eye Drops

That image does a lot of work. It suggests that the life review is not a film being rewound from outside but a viewing of structure that was built moment by moment. It also links back to the "one world" argument: if every experience is a weld point that you yourself made, then the review at death is the moment you finally see the whole construction you were responsible for. McMoneagle offers this as his understanding rather than a proof, and the episode explicitly invites listeners to weigh it.

Why does rigor matter when the subject is psychic ability?

The episode's description says McMoneagle questions some popular claims about psychic abilities and stresses why rigorous blind protocols matter. That is a notable stance for a man whose career is tied to a program that many people associate with mystique. It is also what gives his testimony credibility: he is not presenting remote viewing as a parlor trick, and he is not asking to be believed on faith.

The Stargate background the host sketches in the introduction is useful context. He describes McMoneagle sketching a massive experimental submarine inside top secret Soviet facilities before satellites knew it existed, tracking counterintelligence targets using only a Social Security number, and receiving the Legion of Merit for intelligence work across hundreds of operational missions. These are the host's summaries in the episode's opening, and they are claims a reader should weigh as the host's framing of the record. They are also precisely the kind of claims that blind protocols are designed to test: the value of a remote viewing hit depends on whether the viewer was truly separated from the target and the answer was checked afterward.

That is the discipline that lets the bigger questions be asked at all. McMoneagle's views on robots, origins, and the life review are his own. The episode is most valuable when treated the way he seems to treat them: as hypotheses from a person with an unusually long record of trying to measure what the mind can perceive.

What is still open after the three hours?

The episode covers far more than this article can. The description lists Robert Monroe and out-of-body exploration, near-death experiences and reincarnation, the nature of the self, and a famous Mars remote viewing session that McMoneagle describes in detail. Those sections deserve their own careful reading, and this piece has not tried to summarize them beyond what the material supports.

What holds across the conversation is a single demand: that we take the question of what we are seriously, without assuming the answer is already known. McMoneagle's closing position, as expressed in these sections, is that the more we perceive, the more responsibility we carry for what we perceive. That is a demanding idea, and it is probably the reason he keeps returning to it.

Where to go from here

If this conversation has you thinking about the mind's reach, start with the parts that are most grounded: the host's account of the Stargate record, and McMoneagle's careful distinction between what he saw and what he concludes. Then listen to the sections on Robert Monroe and the life review, where the ideas about self and responsibility are developed most fully. Watch the full episode on the Third Eye Drops channel, and pay attention to where the speakers agree, where they hedge, and where they simply say they do not know.