The Unarius movement believe that angels and aliens are guiding our destiny, and that various historical figures have reincarnated to help us along. Their founder, Ruth Norman, repeatedly prophesied a millennial mass-landing of UFOs, but never lived to see the day.

In 22 December 1999, Charles Louis Spiegel “made his transition to the Spiritual worlds.”1 Up until his death at the age of 78, Spiegel had been the director of one of the most famous and long-lived UFO contactee cults, the Unarius Academy of Science. Known to his fellow Unariuns (as they call themselves) by the “spiritual name” of Antares, Spiegel had taken up the reins when the cult’s co-founder, Ruth Norman, died in 1993. Spiegel served as her “sub-channel” since the early 1970s. Drawing upon Norman’s psychic energies Spiegel would become the vessel for various extraterrestrial and spiritual entities. The conversations that followed between Norman and the channelled beings would be recorded on tape for their later transcription and publication. 2

Spiegel began consolidating his position within the cult during Norman’s final days, nipping one potential coup in the bud and dismissing the objections of emerging apostates. Such decisive leadership abilities did not surprise those Unariuns versed in Spiegel’s spiritual autobiography, The Confessions of I, Bonaparte, which details several of his previous lives, including the despotic leaders Napoleon, Pontius Pilate and Tyrantus (an aptly-named extraterrestrial emperor from the Orion star system).3 According to the book, Spiegel had even once incarnated as the archfiend Satan – an exotic pedigree for a Jewish boy from Toronto!

My own encounters with Spiegel revealed a figure who, while kinder and gentler than his previous incarnations might suggest, sometimes seemed equally crafty. I first met him at the Unarius headquarters in El Cajon, California. He was presiding over the Friday night meet-and-greet for The 16th Interplanetary Conclave of Light Symposium – this was their annual festival, spanning the weekend of the 15–17 October 1999.

Fifty or more individuals, mostly conservative in appearance, sat in a large semi-circle listening to a piano recital Spiegel had encouraged me to attend. Running late from a previous interview, I crept into Unarius
headquarters and in whispered motions picked up my registration kit. Recognisable by the wispy white hair encircling his bald cranium, Spiegel sat to the left of the registration desk; a dreamy smile on his lips suggested he was lost in the music.

I introduced myself to Spiegel at the end of the evening’s proceedings and he seemed genuinely pleased that I was in attendance. Academics and journalists who had visited the cult previously “hadn’t done a good job”, he lamented: “They didn’t understand the Unariun teachings.” No matter, he knew I could do better. In a show of good faith, and to get me started along the path to enlightenment, Spiegel took me for a tour of the Unarius literature stacked around the room, and within a few minutes Spiegel was weighed down with a sizeable collection. Calculating the bill in my mind, I began working up the courage to tell him that such an extensive library was beyond my meagre finances. However, I soon realised that he was making a rather generous donation of a couple of hundred dollars’ worth of Unarius materials and even offered to drive me back to my hotel.

Despite my suspicions, I was beginning to like Spiegel. Not only because of the free books and ride – courtesies that are eagerly accepted by the struggling student – but rather because of his obvious frailties; as we walked to his four-wheel drive, Spiegel tripped over his own feet and almost fell to the ground; later, driving towards my hotel, he nearly collided with oncoming traffic. These geriatric frailties, while potentially lethal, were comical and endearing.

While we sat in his car outside my motel room, Spiegel spent the next hour summarising the complexities of reincarnation and the benefits of Unariun past-life therapy. Although interesting in itself, much of what Spiegel explained was only of secondary significance to my research; I was far more interested in the Unarius interpretation of the UFO phenomenon. That night however, I patiently listened to his spiel, safe in the knowledge that he had agreed to an interview later that weekend.

Saturday was filled with lectures concerning underground Martian cities and video presentations about Nicola Tesla (the deceased inventor who is revered by Unarius as the last earthly incarnation of the Archangel Michiel). Another video contained footage of past-life therapy sessions which, theatrically, require Unarius members, dressed in historical garb, to act out their previous incarnations. Unariuns believe that nearly all an individual’s fears and problems in this life are due to unresolved conflicts from a prior existence. The cathartic process of reliving certain events, Unarius claims, frees the individual from their residual negative energies.

Performing a musical interlude, the Unarius choir crooned altered renditions of popular songs. Bette Midler’s From a Distance underwent a change in lyrics from “God is watching us…” to “They are watching us…” – a hymn to the omniscient Space Brothers.

Sunday’s events took place on a Unariun-owned property in the nearby hills, and everybody was assigned to a car for the journey from headquarters. At the last moment, Spiegel decided that he wanted the vehicles to drive in convoy, with his own four-wheel drive taking the lead. He also made an impromptu change to the planned route, opting for a longer – but more scenic – drive. A few of the Unariuns rolled their eyes at each other when these changes were announced; no doubt similar ocular gesticulation took place shortly afterwards, when Spiegel made a wrong turn into a shopping mall’s parking lot, taking the whole snaking procession with him.

Recovering from this accidental detour, the convoy headed into Southern California’s scenic hills. We eventually came to a sign that spanned the roadway – “Welcome Space Brothers 2001”. The occupants of each vehicle handed over their special boarding passes to be stamped by an attractive Unariun gatekeeper. Her outfit was a mix of those worn by space hostesses in Kubrik’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and the cartoon futurism of The Jetsons. We had arrived at the ‘Landing Site’, a tract of land purchased by Ruth Norman to accommodate the arrival of an extraterrestrial space armada.

Later that day, I followed a Unariun-built ‘nature path’ that wound down the other side of the dry slope. Small bronze plaques dotted the trail, inscribed with words of wisdom from such spiritual and philosophical greats as Jesus, Socrates, Plato and, of course, Ernest and Ruth Norman. Even a past utterance by Spiegel had won a plaque. Halfway down the path I was joined by the man himself; he insisted that I take photos of the engraved quotations and asked me to read him some of their wisdom before we rested with several others under a tree.

Sanctuary from the sun was short-lived; apparently the ‘Interplanetary Banner Procession’ was about to take place. Several Unariuns, using the tone usually reserved for senile but obstinate grandparents, made a futile attempted to persuade Spiegel to don a hat. A Cadillac led the parade, its roof adorned with a model flying saucer. Goose-stepping behind the saucer mobile were four trumpet-carrying heralds, all dressed in the same science fiction garb as the gatekeeper. Last came the 33 banner carriers, acting as surrogates for extraterrestrial leaders and the planets over which they preside. A white tuxedo’ed MC announced each of the living effigies as they lined up before the audience: “Hello, Namir from Serrena. Welcome, Tal from Rallium. Denios from Planet Ray, welcome…” One banner stood out from the spacey litany; “Welcome, Ruth Norman of Planet Earth”. Finally, as the four Jetson clones mimed blowing their horns to the blaring PA system, 33 white doves were released from a scaled-down replica of a flying saucer.

The day was filled with treats such as ‘I was an Orion Space Ship Commander’, a lecture explaining how so-called alien abductions are really just past life memories of torture and brainwashing suffered in the Orion Empire. Several hours later, after a large buffet dinner, the Unariuns and I sat patiently in a tent awaiting the arrival of Spiegel. With lights dimmed and the earlier chattering silenced (we had been told to settle down), the only sensory stimulants were the sound of wind sporadically whipping the tent’s canvas and the Mexican caterers yelling at each other in Spanish as they cleared an adjoining tent. The day’s long programme and the heat of the sun had obviously taken its toll on some of the older Unariuns; a senior gent sitting opposite me snored, his head lolling over the back of his chair.

After half an hour, Spiegel entered, now in a three-piece suit. Taking the stage, he lowered himself into a chair, removed his shoes,
loosened his tie, closed his eyes and began channelling. Now Unariun channelling in no way resembles the spasm-inducing, eye-rolling, creepy-talking variety that I had come to associate with the concept. Spiegel just sat there calmly and, in his regular voice, delivered an hour-long Unariun homily. It was rather disappointing as, a couple of times, I’m pretty sure that he repeated, verbatim, entire sentences that I had heard him utter that weekend during non-channelled speeches and conversations. All that differentiated Spiegel’s channelling from his usual speech was that occasionally, mid-sentence or indeed in mid-word, he would suddenly pause, as if there were a short break in transmission.

Channelling done, Spiegel took questions. Only one woman piped up, asking the identity of the channelled entity. Oops. Spiegel had neglected to mention that we had been listening to Lycenius from the planet Vixall. With no other queries forthcoming, he sternly informed his obviously exhausted audience that they had better darn well think of some questions in the weeks and months to come.

I approached Spiegel. On reflection, it was not, perhaps, the mostopportune time. Could we still do the interview? “Haven’t I said enough?” was the violent retort. I was a bit taken aback, but remained calm and suggested that maybe we could talk tomorrow. He told me to phone him, and I gave him some space.

On the phone the following evening, still trying for the interview, the rhetorical question erupted again: “Haven’t I said enough?” When I tried to explain that I had specific questions about the UFO phenomenon, he hurled another question of his own: “Have you ever had an experience yourself?” I told him that no, I had never had contact with any extraterrestrial or paranormal entity, if that was what he meant.

“Then how do you suppose to write about those who have?” Any remaining chance for an interview was rapidly evaporating, along with the last of my charm.

“Listen, Antares,” I replied, “I’m an historian. I didn’t fight in the Civil War either, but I’m still considered competent enough to write about it.”

“But how can you judge people who have had experiences if you haven’t had one yourself?”

Suddenly it dawned on me: to him, I was just another cynical hack having fun at Unarius’ expense. The words of a journalist that I had conversed with that weekend rang in my ears: “You and I are the same. We come here, befriend these people, learn their secrets, but in the end we inevitably betray them.”

Ignoring the unavoidable truth of those words, I tried to reassure Spiegel: “I don’t intend to judge Unarius or any other group that I speak to this trip. My plan is simply to record different interpretations of the UFO phenomenon, not to prove whether they are right or wrong.” There was silence. Then he said: “Oh, that’s alright then.”

Still, it seemed clear that Spiegel had lost all desire to give an interview. In the background, some other Unariuns could be heard arriving. He had to go. So did I. Time and budget restraints would not let me hang around in El Cajon for yet another day, just on the off-chance that Spiegel would decide to see me.

“Well, maybe I’ll come back and get that interview sometime in the future,” I heard myself say. The weekend’s earlier cheerfulness returned to Spiegel’s voice: “Certainly, Dean, please do keep in touch”.

Of course, now I’m never going to get that interview. Not unless I take up channelling.

The annals of kookdom seem set to record Charles Louis Spiegel as the last leader of Unarius. The cult’s board of directors – basically 16 of the more senior members – have, since his death, decided to share this responsibility amongst themselves. No fuss, no power struggle, just a simple agreement for leadership by committee. Perhaps, as Alex Heard suggested 4, surveying possible successors back in 1994, nobody with leadership potential remained in Unarius. Part of the reason could also originate with Unarius doctrine; apparently any member can channel entities from the Unariun Brotherhood and such messages seem, automatically, to receive the stamp of validity.

Max Weber, grandaddy of religious sociology, pointed out that as religions develop, there is usually a transition from a prophetic to priestly stage. Basically, the prophet is endowed with some type of divine charisma and acts as a conduit for the god by delivering sacred laws, holy messages etc. When the prophet dies, a priestly class usually takes over, formalising the existing messages into doctrine rather than receiving any additional insight. 5

The Ætherius Society – a UFO contactee cult formed in the 1950s – seems to have followed this traditional pattern. With the death of founder George King in 1997, the Ætherius canon has been forever closed; though some members still claim to channel higher entities, these are not recognised as official transmissions. Legitimate communication has now become a one-way affair – Ætherians can send messages to their Cosmic Masters, but are unable to receive any in return. 6

With Unarius, however, every member has the potential to become a prophet or, perhaps more accurately, a shaman. 7 When an elder dies, they remain accessible to the surviving members through spiritual communiqués. Indeed, in the days following Spiegel’s death, “many Unariun students experienced mental contact with Antares through psychisms, dreams and inner attunement.” One member, a Canadian
resident who had previously channelled James Dean and Edgar Rice Burroughs, had “received two transmission from Antares.” 8

On reflection, I may have learned as much about Spiegel by not interviewing him, especially now that I know he only survived my visit by two months. At the time, I perceived him to be a crafty old cult leader dodging my probing questions: now, I realise he was probably just tired. Organising the weekend, channelling in public for the last time and explaining reincarnation outside my motel until midnight had probably all taken their toll.

As I glance at the thick Unarius tomes on my bookshelf, listen to the recording of that final channelling, and recall the spiritual jargon with which I was politely bombarded in a motel parking lot, I finally realise the truth of the rhetorical question Spiegel twice posed to me.

Rest well, Antares, in whatever spiritual realm you now inhabit...

What is Unarius?

Unarius is one of the oldest and most-successful UFO contactee groups. Strictly speaking, the Unarius Academy of Science is a tax-exempt, non-profit educational foundation centred in El Cajon, California. The word Unarius is an acronym for Universal Articulate Interdimensional Understanding of Science. Members call themselves ‘Unariuns’.

What do they believe?

Unarius teaches that humankind is being prepared for a momentous change in consciousness, at which point Earth will be invited to join the Interplanetary Federation as the 33rd planet. Earth, it seems, is a prison planet where beings who have done terrible things in previous lives on other planets are incarnated. Unariuns are encouraged to confess their past-life sins – often in costumed pageants – in order to advance themselves spiritually. To aid them, the Unarius leaders have channelled teachings from ‘advanced beings’ (ascended masters, rulers of higher planets, archangels and interdimensional scientists) explaining consciousness, the origin of life and our connection with galactic intelligence.

Since its founding in 1954, Unarius has evolved into a rambling and complex belief-system encompassing intelligent life on other worlds and in other dimensions, angelic beings, mental and physical super-sciences, intergalactic travel by huge flying saucers, channelling, reincarnation and redemption.

The Unariuns believe that once an individual becomes aware of his past lives (and some Unariuns claim to have been ‘evil’ personalities) he can – with help from the Space Brothers – heal the damage done to himself and others. Ernest Norman claimed to have been both Jesus of Nazareth (he supposedly had the crucifixion scars to prove it) and Osiris. Ruth Norman is said to have lived 55 lives on Earth, including the Buddha, Socrates, King Arthur, Confucius, and King Poseid of Atlantis. Charles Spiegel, the last director, claims to have been Napoleon and Pontius Pilate.

To Unariuns, death is the next step in personal evolution, possibly leading to a ‘higher’ incarnation on another planet.

How and when did it start?

The early 1950s was the heyday of the flying saucer contactee movement and Ernest Norman (left, with Ruth), an electronics engineer, poet and clairvoyant, began hearing interplanetary voices and astral-travelling to Mars and Venus. While attending a Los Angeles psychics’ convention in 1954, to lecture on ‘Inner Contact from the Higher Beings’, he met Ruth Marian. They married that same year and laid the foundations of what was to become Unarius.

Over the next 17 years, they promoted Unarius at UFO and spiritualist conventions and wrote more than 20 books. Ernest (known to Unariuns as the Archangel Raphiel) had been the main channel for messages from the Space Brothers. After his death in 1971, Ruth emerged as a charismatic and flamboyant leader and embraced the main channelling duties (as the Archangel Uriel), although others were also encouraged to become cosmic mouthpieces.

Ruth moved their headquarters to El Cajon, near San Diego, in 1972, where they can be found today. By the time of her death in 1996 (aged 93), she had published about 80 books, helped create almost 100 videos and films, and established dozens of Unarius centres in other states and countries. Ruth’s predilection for evening gowns, glitzy tiaras and magic wands attracted media attention. This campy fashion was matched by her sensational claim that an armada of flying saucers were due to land in 1974.

After her death, Charles Spiegel (aka Antares) became director. A Unarius student and teacher since 1960, Spiegel has authored or co-authored more than 30 books for the Academy. He died in December 1999, aged 78 and has already been channelled by Unariuns.

At its peak in the late 1980s, Unarius claimed an international membership of more than 10,000. Since the mass suicide of the Heaven’s Gate group in 1997, media attention has been significantly more hostile, despite Unarius’ declaration that it has absolutely no plans for mass suicide. In fact, Unarius emphasises the need to be alive when the Pleiadeans eventually arrive, to take part in building the era of peace and universal education.

The mass landing

Ruth Norman’s first great prophecy looked forward to a massed landing in 1974 of flying saucers from the Pleiades. At this time, emissaries of the Space Brothers would induct the people of Earth into “an alignment of 33 planets forming an Interplanetary Confederation for the spiritual renaissance of humankind”. She bought land near Jamul, California, to build ‘Star Center One’, a landing-site for the off-world visitors.

When Ruth’s Space Brothers missed their deadline, she simply claimed they would be coming later. The expected landing was rescheduled many times until it settled on the (then) conveniently distant 2001. While the world worried about the imminent ‘Y2K’ catastrophe, the Unarians were looking forward to 2001 as the beginning of an era of universal peace.
This appointment, too, was cancelled. In a channelled message, the Muons from Myton said: “There is not a [new] date… We have to feel the waters out and make an individual contact with the military and the country leaders.” Unarius currently maintain that a single Pleiadean space craft is already here, waiting invisibly. When the time is right, it will land on a Caribbean island – a rising portion of Atlantis in the area of the Bermuda Triangle – “carrying 1,000 scientists from planet Myton”. This craft will be the harbinger of a further 32 flying saucers that will land, one on top of the other, to form a gigantic “interplanetary learning center” at Star Center One.