
Psychics, CIA And Ark Of The Covenant Collide In Declassified Document
Replica of the Ark of the Covenant, a gold-covered wooden chest described in the Book of Exodus as ... More containing the two stone tablets of the Ten Commandments. (Photo by: Universal History Archive/ Universal Images Group via Getty Images)
If you believe Hollywood, the fabled Ark of the Covenant was hidden away in an ancient abandoned city in Egypt until Indiana Jones found it in 1936. If that sounds far-fetched, wait until you hear about how an agency of the United States government used a psychic to feel out the location of the Ark in the 1980s. It's a true story, according to declassified documents.
The Ark of the Covenant is a legendary chest said to hold the tablets with the Ten Commandments. The Ark is mentioned in Exodus in the Bible where it's described as being made of wood overlaid with pure gold. Cherubic figures face one another on the top. It's been an object of fascination into modern times.
The Ark's existence hasn't been proven, much less its location found if it does exist. That didn't stop the US government from investigating it as part of a 1980s project meant to harness psychic powers. A Project Sun Streak session in 1988 involved a purported psychic describing the location and appearance of the Ark of the Covenant using the powers of the mind.
The CIA first published the declassified Project Sun Streak document concerning the Ark in 2000, so it's not fresh news. It seems to have reemerged into the spotlight thanks to social media chatter.
While the CIA is connected to the document's publication, the Defense Intelligence Agency, a group tasked with military intelligence work, oversaw Project Sun Streak in the 1980s. 'Project Sun Streak deals with the use of psychoenergetics in the collection of intelligence information,' a declassified DIA overview explained. One of the project's main tasks involved the 'purely mental collection of information.'
The government's psychic programs experimented with extrasensory perception, telepathy and remote viewing—the alleged ability to gather information about distant objects without actually seeing or interacting with them. Remote viewing was the technique employed in the search for the Ark. The supposed psychic subject was given coordinates and then asked to describe a target there.
A session typically consisted of a remote viewer and an interviewer or monitor who guided the process. The session summary for the Ark includes the subject's description of the target as a container with another container inside. 'The target is fashioned of wood, gold and silver,' the document said. The target was said to be located in the Middle East with mosque domes nearby. 'The target is hidden—underground, dark and wet were all aspects of the location of the target,' it said.
The test subject said the object had the purpose of bringing people together and was connected to 'ceremony, memory, homage, the resurrection' with an aspect of spirituality. The target was supposedly protected and could only be opened by those authorized to do so. 'Individuals opening the container by prying or striking are destroyed by the container's protectors through the use of a power unknown to us,' the summary read. A crude illustration in the document shows a single winged figure, though it looks more like a bird than a cherub.
The document on the Ark of the Covenant session included this illustration of winged figure.
This all reads like an exciting piece of fiction involving a legendary object, hidden away and guarded by strange forces. The notes from the session are packed with single words like 'forbidden,' 'terror, ' death,' 'burning' and 'wealth.' The Indiana Jones movie 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' came out in 1981, years prior to the remote viewing session. The movie's infamous face-melting scene was triggered by the opening of the Ark of the Covenant. All of those words could easily apply to the movie, though there's no indication of any connection between the film and the remote viewing experiment.
Project Sun Streak and its predecessor programs attempted to glean information about more than religious artifacts. They were also meant to tease out information on Soviet facilities at a time when the Cold War was still going strong. The project's early origins came about as a response to reports of Soviet experiments in psychokinesis, the claimed ability to move objects with your mind. Think Eleven from 'Stranger Things.'
Government experiments took place through the 1970s and 1980s under different umbrellas. Sun Streak formally appeared in the mid-80s with a focus on remote viewing. The DIA highlighted remote viewing's passive (undetectable) nature and low cost as benefits of the technique. Sun Streak operators hoped to train professional intelligence personnel in the use of remote viewing.
It seems the US government never managed to train a bevy of psychic intelligence officers. By 2000, the CIA deemed Project Sun Streak fit to declassify. You can now read the documents online.
It's fun to dip your toes into the strange happenings of Project Sun Streak, but what's not proven is the existence or location of the Ark of the Covenant. Former CIA intelligence officer and former CIA deputy chief historian Nicholas Dujmovic is familiar with the DIA project's existence, but has seen no hint of the government actually tracking down the relic. 'The recurring idea that we are searching for, or have found, the Ark of the Covenant, or Noah's Ark, or any other ark, makes little sense, and I saw no evidence whatsoever of this sort of thing in my 26 years at CIA,' he says over email.
We might as well go with the fictional Indiana Jones explanation for now: the Ark of the Covenant is now tucked away in a government storage facility where it can't melt any faces.
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'I was flying a C-123, bringing in munitions, supplies and fuel for 'the little birds,' which would then distribute it to other sites,' Hansen recalls. As part of his mission, he also transported 'CIA customers.' During one flight in 1972, Hansen was shot down over the Plateau de Bolevan in southern Laos. 'After getting my crew out and bailing out, I watched the C-123 fall out of the sky and explode,' he says, noting he was rescued by Air America helicopters shortly after. About 100 meters west of the airstrip stands a two-story house that once served as the headquarters of General Vang Pao, the leader of the CIA-backed Hmong army. From this remote compound, Pao worked closely with American operatives to coordinate a covert war, marshaling thousands of Hmong fighters while receiving US air support, weapons and humanitarian aid in return. Set behind a tall fence and overgrown garden, the house still feels separated from the rest of the village — distant, guarded. A sign on the front door, written in English, reads: 'No entry without permission.' It's the only English sign we've seen in the entire village, and it stops us in our tracks. With no one around, we circle the property, peering through dusty windows, unsure whether we can get inside. An older man in weathered military fatigues appears nearby. Without saying a word, he approaches, slowly dangling a key in front of our faces. He doesn't speak English, but types out a number on his phone. We nod and hand over the cash. A moment later, we're inside. The house is not what I expected. I'd imagined a preserved time capsule, cluttered with mementos or forgotten artifacts — but the rooms are eerily empty. No furniture, no decorations, no posters or portraits of the general. In the foyer, dozens of artillery shells are stacked neatly in one corner, with several mortar rounds resting nearby. It's surreal to see these instruments of war arranged with such quiet precision. Through a translation app, the man warns us not to touch anything — some might still be live. Upstairs, a single wooden desk and chair have been placed near a panoramic window facing the airstrip. I sit down, imagining General Vang Pao and CIA officers in this very spot, directing B-52 bombing runs on communist strongholds. The war — so vast, so devastating — had largely been coordinated from this small, simple room. It was almost impossible to reconcile the scale of the conflict with the modesty of this setting. We climb up to the roof. From there, the view stretches across the old airstrip and into the mountains that once shielded Long Tieng from attack. Today, the village is quiet. A few people walk slowly down the main road. Stray dogs nap in the sun. It's hard to believe that tens of thousands of people once lived here. Today, the impacts of the intense US bombing campaign on Laos are still being felt. Of the 270 million sub-munitions dropped on the country, an estimated 30% did not detonate, according to the Mines Advisory Group (MAG). These unexploded ordnances continue to kill, injure and hinder development across the country, according to MAG. Around the hills of Long Tieng, villagers still rarely venture off established roads and trails to avoid unexploded munitions. Full US-Laos relations were restored in 1992 and since 1995, the US has invested more than $390 million in a Conventional Weapons Destruction program aimed at addressing the legacy of the war. However, questions remain about future US funding of explosive ordinance clearance in Southeast Asia following the Trump administration's widespread suspension of foreign aid. 'I fell in love with Laos,' says Hansen. 'I look back on my time as exciting and a place where I could immerse myself in the culture. I was fulfilling a purpose where I knew I was accomplishing something that was needed.' Back in Long Tieng, children riding scooters zoom past my friend and me, their tires bumping over the broken concrete that once launched warplanes into the sky. I now understand why the community gravitates toward the airstrip whenever they can: it's one of the few open spaces cleared of unexploded ordnance. A rare place where children can play without fear of becoming another casualty of a war that ended 50 years ago. The legacy of a secret conflict — barely remembered back in the United States.