Review of "Secret History of the Watchers" by Timothy Wyllie

Secret History of the Watchers:
Atlantis and the Deep Memory of the Rebel Angels
Timothy Wyllie | 2018 | Bear & Company | 344 pages | ISBN: 9781591433194 | $22.00

Oh, dear me. Here we go again! I have long posited that the Sons of God from Genesis 6:4 are the secret connecting thread tying together so much of fringe history. They show up as the Watchers of Enoch and the ancestors of the pyramid builders in Islamic lore. They are the inspiration for the Old Ones and the namesakes of the mystical Egregores. Their secret wisdom is the fictive origin of the magical texts on buried pillars and the hidden plates of knowledge in Freemasonry. They are, in a word, everywhere. And now there is a second book from the same publisher in the same season about the Fallen Angels. The first was Egregores by Mark Stavish, and the newest is Timothy Wyllie’s Secret History of the Watchers: Atlantis and the Deep Memory of the Rebel Angels.

​Wyllie was a British New Age writer who died last October. I discussed his unusual cosmology three years ago, when he made a radio appearance to discuss the Watchers. After a near death experience, he began writing paranormal literature, eventually producing a multi-volume series about fallen angels that started in 2011 and will continue past this volume with future books to be edited from his unfinished papers. Wyllie claimed to have received secret information from guardian angel and to have learned that many humans are incarnations of the fallen angels.
 
Of the book itself, I’m not sure that there is much to say. A mixture of New Age mysticism and poorly understood secondhand references to ancient sources (many derived from The Urantia Book), it is less a coherent text than a grab bag of occultism and wish-fulfillment fantasies. There is not a lot one can say about a writer who takes for granted that the Urantia Book, published in the United States in 1955, is a true revelation of the real operations of the universe. This strange text is a sort of Adventism-inspired alternative Christianity for postwar America, to which is added hefty doses of twentieth century science, pseudoscience, and mysticism.
 
According to Wyllie, the Fallen Angels are not actually the evil sinners of Judeo-Christian lore. Instead, they are freedom fighters who launched a revolution to break free of the unjust political oppression of the Multiverse Administrators, a sort of heavenly bureaucracy running thousands of parallel universes in orbit around God’s island paradise. Wyllie, through his guardian angel, alleges that demons and devils don’t exist and are merely “thoughtforms”—which is to say the egregores of occultism. Instead, all the supernatural beings are angels, and Satan leads the rebels in the good fight for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—or whatever the British equivalent would be. Wyllie, though British by birth, lived much of his life in America, so perhaps that explains his interest in expanding on Urantia’s recasting of Satan as a sort of proto-American.
 
Rather than rewrite what I have covered before, I will repeat my earlier summary of Wyllie’s worldview, as told to him by his guardian angel, Georgia the Female Watcher:

---

Wyllie follows Urantia to the point that his own independent ideas are really just explications of concepts from the earlier text. At any rate, he claims that up to 100 million humans are really rebel angels from Lucifer’s host who are repenting for their insurrection in human form, often unaware of their condition. This contrasts with Judeo-Christian literature, which holds that the Fallen Angels are chained under the earth or among the stars waiting for the Judgment. In Judeo-Christian myth, only the spirits of their children, the Nephilim, are allowed onto the earth. In Wyllie’s telling, the Nephilim are actually bureaucrats who run angel operations for Planetary Prince Caligastia, a figure from Urantia (66:1f.) who is the true force of evil in the universe and the chief bureaucrat. He lived in Mesopotamia, hence his equation with the Anunnaki and thus the Nephilim, frequently conflated in fringe literature. This isn’t Wyllie’s original idea, though. It’s in the Urantia (77:2).

​Wyllie claimed that his books were collaborations between himself and Georgia the Watcher, whose oral histories he gave written form. In reality, his volumes are Urantia fan fiction, and largely unreadable drivel. This book, despite its title, is no different.
 
The current volume purports to be one chronological slice of Georgia’s epic narration of all of universal history from the dawn of time down to the present, comprising the events of around 10,000 years ago. Oddly, for such a cosmic being, Georgia is overly concerned with human events, especially those that loomed large in Wyllie’s own life. Thus, for Georgia World War II was of exceptional cosmic importance, and wouldn’t you know Wyllie was born during the war and lived his first years in its shadow. A lengthy section recounts Wyllie’s experiences of New York in the 1970s, and wouldn’t you know it but that was also a key touchstone for Georgia, who was able to relate it to the vast history of the cosmos, where its decay in that decade, and the failure of liberalism, became harbingers of the End of Days. Much of the book is given over to Wyllie’s adventures in New York and Toronto in the 1970s occult scene, and it was hard not to notice that Wyllie (since we can dispense with the fiction that “Georgia” is real) is attempting to find parallels between his mortal life and the immortal cosmic struggle of the past, suggesting that he is living out a divine story on the earthly plane. He returns time and again to his near-death experience, which he sees as his connection to the cosmic.
 
Anyway, in the book Wyllie shares Satan’s thoughts—he was BFFs with Jesus! He misses his Dad!—and tells us that Satan authorized space aliens to anally probe humans as part of a hybridization program. But Wyllie recognizes that this seems a bit like rape, so he informs us that the souls of the people who are abducted and violated volunteered for the position before they were born, for the privilege of becoming pregnant with satanic fallen angel alien rape babies. “Don’t forget, she’s almost certain to be a conventional housewife,” Georgia the Fallen Angel said before adding that no more than “five of six million women” are used as incubators for alien babies. “Most favored are socially stable areas like the American Midwest, where in some cases there are matrilineal lines of four or five generations of abductees.” Georgia claims that middle America is the “optimally secure” location for hybridization. Oh, and Nikola Tesla was a genius because he was a hybrid alien.
 
He also devotes a chapter to the massive race war that won Europe for white people 9,000 years ago. In his telling, some races “will happily interbreed” while others will not. Africans inherited the racial stock of a lost race of unintelligent but jolly green giants. (Seriously, he said that.) White people were “intelligent and ingenious” and inherited from space aliens superior racial characteristics at their home base in Denmark. The purest of the whites still live there, but they weakened some from their glorious past through interbreeding with the non-whites of Europe, though with the conclusion that they killed or bred all the non-whites in Europe out of existence. These non-whites (who were blue!) “proved no match for the far more ingenious and aggressive white race.” Wyllie—or “Georgia”—adds that non-white women are irresistibly attracted to white males and cannot help but give themselves to them to become pregnant. The only difference between Wyllie’s accounts and the racist views of fringe history is that he condemns the white race and celebrates the peaceful and simple earth peoples, whom one suspects he wishes he could join. White people, “Georgia” says, are possessed of universal evil imbued by Prince Caligastia, who wishes to enslave humanity.
 
Do I really need to go on?
 
Wyllie’s book cites no sources, and it makes not even a cursory effort to find support outside the preposterous claims of Urantia. Across the six volumes of the series, I get the impression that this is less a channeled text from the angelic realm than a failed fantasy novel in which the author has cast himself as a questing hero. But the final product is so incompetently written, overly mannered, and boring that even as a fantasy it fails. I am reminded of the apocryphal words of the Caliph Omar: “If these books agree with the Koran, they are useless; if they disagree, they are pernicious: in either case, they ought to be destroyed.” This series agrees with the Urantia and therefore is useless. It is bad fan fiction elevated to a spurious revelation tied to a false faith invented for midcentury middle America, and which all but died decades before Wyllie devoted the last years of his life to reviving it.