The claim arrived the way most bombshells do these days: through a podcast. In a November episode of "American Alchemy," Jason Reza Jorjani — a philosophy PhD, former lecturer at the New Jersey Institute of Technology, and one-time co-founder of the AltRight Corporation alongside Richard Spencer — described a conversation he says he had with Lyn Buchanan, a retired Army sergeant who was part of the U.S. military's classified remote viewing program, Star Gate, which ran from the 1970s through the mid-1990s before being declassified. What Buchanan allegedly told him: a former CIA analyst named Christopher "Kit" Green had engineered backdoor access to consumer genetic databases, including 23andMe and Ancestry.com, and was screening millions of customer profiles for a "specific genetic variance" that the CIA believes marks individuals of extraterrestrial — specifically "Nordic" alien — descent.

"The CIA wants to hunt them down," Jorjani said on the recording, summarizing what he claims Buchanan told him. The Nordics, per the narrative, had intermarried with humans across generations and simply wanted to live quietly. The CIA, in this telling, was not content to let them.

Before going further, it is worth being precise about what kind of claim this actually is. The sole sourcing chain runs: Jorjani → Buchanan → alleged knowledge of Green's alleged program. There is no document. There is no leaked database query. There is no on-the-record corroboration from Buchanan, who has not publicly confirmed the account. The CIA has not acknowledged any such program. Kit Green — a figure with a legitimately unusual biography that includes confirmed work at the CIA, a medical and neuroscience career, and contributions to the Pentagon's Advanced Aerospace Weapon System Applications program, which studied reported injuries from UAP encounters — has not been publicly linked to any commercial genetic screening initiative. His name being attached to the claim does not make the claim true; it makes it more interesting to scrutinize.

Jorjani himself carries significant credibility baggage. His co-founding of the AltRight Corporation — a venture that dissolved acrimoniously — is a matter of public record. His books blend legitimate philosophy of science with speculative claims about paranormal phenomena and a politics of civilizational hierarchy. None of that automatically disqualifies a claim, but it is relevant context when a single individual's podcast testimony is the entire evidentiary foundation.

And yet. Strip the aliens entirely out of the story and something important remains. The legal and technical architecture that would enable exactly what Jorjani describes — a government agency running covert queries against consumer genetic databases — already exists in rudimentary form. Law enforcement agencies have obtained court orders compelling genealogy platforms to produce data, and courts have in at least one documented case allowed warrantless searches of databases containing millions of profiles. GEDmatch and FamilyTreeDNA have cooperated with law enforcement access requests. Both 23andMe and Ancestry have stated that they resist such requests but acknowledge they may be compelled to comply under lawful order. Critically, researchers and legal analysts have noted that consumer genetic databases are governed by no comprehensive federal statute — there is no equivalent of HIPAA covering what a direct-to-consumer DNA company stores.

That regulatory vacuum became significantly more acute in March 2025, when 23andMe filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, triggering an immediate and legitimate national security debate. The House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform convened a hearing specifically on whether the bankruptcy sale could expose the genetic data of more than fifteen million customers — data covering ancestry, disease predispositions, and full genomic sequences — to buyers with unknown intentions or foreign affiliations. In May 2025, Regeneron Pharmaceuticals agreed to acquire 23andMe's assets for $256 million, pending bankruptcy court and regulatory approval. Lawmakers from both parties pressed for guarantees. A privacy ombudsman was appointed by the court to review whether any sale comported with the company's original privacy commitments to customers. Whether those commitments are legally enforceable remains, by the assessment of multiple privacy law experts, an open question.

This is the context in which the Jorjani claim landed and spread — not into a vacuum, but into a public already watching in real time as a database of fifteen million people's most intimate biological information changed hands through a process over which those fifteen million people had no meaningful vote. The alien-hybrid premise is, based on available evidence, unfounded. But it functions as a kind of social tracer dye: it illuminates a genuine fear, held by people across the political spectrum, that the data sold to find out whether you have Irish ancestry is data that can be queried for purposes you never consented to, by entities you will never know about, in pursuit of objectives that will never be disclosed.

The honest accounting of this story, then, is layered. The claim as stated — CIA screening DNA databases for Nordic alien bloodlines — rests on a single hearsay chain from a source with no documented access to CIA operational programs, relayed by a figure with a documented history in fringe political organizing. It is allegation, not evidence. What is not allegation: the databases are real, they are enormous, legal protections governing government access to them are weak and contested, and the largest of them just went through a bankruptcy process that exposed the data to potential transfer under opaque conditions. You do not need to believe in alien hybrids to find that alarming.