Tulsi Gabbard, her guru and the mysterious messages that helped shape her political career
I’d been asking people about Chris Butler,
the eccentric religious leader Tulsi Gabbard once described as her guru.
Gabbard grew up in Butler’s breakaway Hare Krishna group.
Her parents held senior positions in the organization.
Butler’s followers practice a form of Hinduism that involves devotion to a single deity,
in their case Krishna,
and certain expectations around meditation, yoga and diet.
Some former members, however, have called the group a cult
and said disciples were isolated from the outside world,
characterizations the group has denied.
Former devotees had been telling me for weeks that Butler controlled his followers’ major life decisions
and demanded total obedience and secrecy.
They said he spent years working to extend his reach into politics
— and they suspected Gabbard’s rise in Washington was the culmination of that effort.
Since Tulsi Gabbard, a former Democratic congresswoman, had been picked by President-elect Donald Trump to be director of national intelligence, I wanted to understand: Just how much influence did Butler have on her?
Not much, Saltzburg told me in that first conversation. She also played down the importance of Butler’s organization, the Science of Identity Foundation (SIF).
“I don’t even really see it as a real group,” she said.
Nine months later, Saltzburg, then 53, got back in touch.
This time, she had a different story to tell. She didn’t want to say much on a regular phone line, so we switched to an encrypted messaging app.
Saltzburg told me she had worked for Butler as a secretary in the 1990s,
and lived for a time with Gabbard’s parents and other devotees in a rented property.
She said she had recently fallen out with the leaders of SIF, who she believed were mishandling allegations of physical and sexual abuse by some members of the organization.
A few months earlier, she said, she had been arrested for briefly housing a teenage runaway who alleged abuse by a parent associated with the group. Saltzburg claimed SIF members had engineered her arrest.
It all seemed a little conspiratorial and hard to follow, and I was deep into another story.
But there was a minor mystery that had been nagging at me since I had looked into SIF the previous year, a name I’d stumbled on deep within some records.
“One question,” I wrote to Saltzburg last September. “Do you know what Nine Isles is?”
Her answer surprised me, and it sent me on a nearly year-long quest to better understand Gabbard, who left office last week.
Saltzburg told me NineIsles.com was an email domain used by Butler’s office,
one reserved for his secretaries and select disciples.
She said she herself had received emails from Nine Isles addresses when she worked on Gabbard’s campaigns.
She thought she had deleted most of them, she said.
But when Saltzburg logged into an old Gmail account, she found hundreds of emails from her SIF days, many from Nine Isles accounts. She shared some with me.
Their content was extraordinary.
Dozens of attached memos appeared to document directives and advice for Gabbard from her time in Congress.
Some contained instructions on what legislation she should propose,
which policies she should embrace and how she should conduct herself on television.
They had an air of authority.
A memo about a proposal to partition war-torn Iraq into three states quoted an unnamed person as saying it was
“time for TG to come up with this idea.”
Some of the language was harshly critical.
One memo I found, from January 2015, contained a derisive assessment of a statement Gabbard was to give in response to President Barack Obama’s annual address to Congress.
“In the first place, nobody gives a shit what you think about his State of the Union speech, unless you’re going to say something of interest,”
the memo quoted someone as saying.
“You’re not even trying. You’ve become really intellectually lazy.”
In another, Gabbard was described as “chickenshit” and “mealymouthed” for her comments on a policy proposal.
I noticed that Gabbard for the most part was not listed as a recipient of these emails,
though many went to people around her, including her parents.
The attached memos appeared to be transcripts, often fragmentary, of spoken remarks or conversations.
Some of the memos had file names that included “Call with TG”
and attributed remarks to Gabbard,
while in others the spoken remarks referred to Gabbard in third person.
But the main speaker in each memo
— the person who appeared to be issuing directives and sometimes castigating Gabbard
— wasn’t named.
When I asked Saltzburg about this,
she seemed amused.
It was Butler, of course, she said.
No one else could speak to Gabbard like that, she added.
Saltzburg said the memos were unattributed precisely to mask Butler’s identity if they ever became public
https://www.washingtonpost.com/investigations/2026/06/21/tulsi-gabbard-her-guru-mysterious-messages-that-helped-shape-her-political-career/