The Pig War of 1859: When One Shot Nearly Sparked a War—and What It Teaches Us About Peace
The American Revolution is often introduced with the “shot heard around the world” at Lexington Green in April 1775—a single report that set bigger events in motion. In this episode of GodNAmerica, I highlight another rifle shot that didn’t make most history textbooks, but still traveled across continents in its consequences.
On June 15, 1859, one frustrated farmer shot a pig in the San Juan Islands. That one act nearly escalated into a military confrontation between the United States and Great Britain. The story sounds almost unbelievable, but it lands on a very serious theme: small conflicts can grow into big crises when pride takes the wheel.
Here’s what happened, why it mattered, and how Scripture frames the difference between pride-fueled escalation and peace-making restraint.
I open by recalling Lexington Green on April 19, 1775. Around 700 British regulars approached the town and met about 70 American patriot minutemen. As the Americans turned to leave the field, a shot of unknown origin rang out—and the battle began. That moment is remembered because it became the ignition point for a much larger conflict.
Then I pivot to a different “shot,” one that happened 84 years later. The setting is the San Juan Islands, located between Washington Territory and British-controlled Vancouver Island. In 1859, the boundary between the United States and Great Britain in that region was unclear. The Oregon Treaty of 1846 had drawn a border through the middle of a channel separating the islands, but it did not specify which channel. With the wording unsettled, both nations claimed the same territory.
That kind of ambiguity matters because borders are not just lines on a map—they’re legal claims, economic interests, and national pride bundled together. When boundaries are unclear, everyday disputes can become symbolic tests of authority.
Into that tense, uncertain space steps an American farmer named Lyman Cutlar. He lived on one of the islands and kept a potato patch that I describe as his pride and joy. One day he saw a large black pig rooting through his garden and devouring his potatoes. The pig belonged to Charles Griffin, an Irishman who worked for the British Hudson’s Bay Company.
Cutlar responded the way many frustrated farmers might have responded in the moment: he grabbed his rifle and shot the pig. By itself, that sounds like a localized problem—an animal damaging crops, a farmer taking decisive action. But in a disputed territory, local problems rarely stay local.
When Griffin discovered what happened, he demanded compensation of $100, which I note was a steep sum in 1859. Cutlar refused to pay, arguing the pig had no business being in his garden. Griffin threatened to have him arrested by British authorities, and that threat was enough to ignite a standoff.
As the tension spread, American settlers called for military protection. U.S. troops arrived under Captain George Pickett—the same George Pickett who would later be associated with the famous charge at Gettysburg. The British responded by sending warships to the island. For a brief period, the two most significant military powers in the world stood face to face over one dead pig.
This is the moment where the story becomes both comical and sobering. Comical, because the original spark was so small. Sobering, because the machinery of escalation is always the same: a grievance becomes a demand, a demand becomes a threat, a threat becomes a show of force, and a show of force becomes a situation where one misstep can trigger tragedy.
In this case, cooler heads prevailed. When news of the standoff reached Washington and London, both governments were embarrassed. Orders came quickly: no shots were to be fired, and no blood was to be spilled.
What followed was an unusual solution. For the next 12 years, both nations maintained a joint military occupation of the San Juan Islands. American and British soldiers lived in separate camps only a few miles apart. Over time, I describe them becoming friendly—sharing supplies, trading goods, and even celebrating holidays together.
Eventually, in 1872, the dispute was submitted to arbitration—meaning an outside authority was asked to help settle the disagreement. Emperor Wilhelm I of Germany was asked to arbitrate, and he ruled in favor of the United States. The boundary was settled peacefully. No human life had been lost, and the episode became known as the Pig War.
The historical facts are interesting, but I present the Pig War mainly as a parable of escalation. Pride and anger can take something minor and enlarge it—unless wisdom and humility intervene early.
That is where I connect the story to Scripture. Proverbs 15:1 describes how tone and posture matter in conflict: a soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. In the Pig War, irritation and pride created the conditions for escalation. Restraint and refusal to take offense kept peace.
James 1:19–20 adds a practical sequence: be swift to hear, slow to speak, and slow to wrath, because the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God. That principle applies to neighbors and to nations. When anger drives the response, perspective shrinks. The conflict becomes about winning, not about what is right.
I also draw a line from 1859 to the present day. Modern “pig wars” may not be fought over potato patches, but they can still flare up over politics, ideology, and pride. People can be quick to “shoot” with words—one post, one headline, one disagreement—and the outrage can ripple outward.
In that context, I reference the public responses involving Candace Owens and her remarks about what I describe as “Charlie Kirk’s murder.” I use that reference as an example of how quickly commentary, reaction, and outrage can intensify, especially when people feel threatened or insulted.
Matthew 5:9 frames the alternative path: blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. In the way I describe it, peacemaking is not weakness. It is strength under control—the courage to step back, breathe, and ask honest questions: Is this worth fighting over? Will this glorify God, or will it feed my pride?
The restraint shown by Captain Pickett and the British commanders becomes the hinge of the whole account. Ego could have dictated their actions, but both sides agreed to stand down. Their restraint is why the Pig War can be remembered as a strange story rather than mourned as another tragedy.
I close by returning to the main lesson: the Pig War of 1859 shows that it is possible to choose peace over pride. True strength shows up not only in the ability to fight, but also in the willingness to forgive. Freedom—like faith—must be guarded with humility and grace.
Application
The Pig War story is memorable because it shows how quickly a small offense can turn into a standoff. In everyday life, the “shot” is often a sentence, a text, a comment, or a tone. These practices keep small conflicts small:
Name the real issue before reacting. Separate the immediate irritation (the pig in the potatoes) from the deeper meaning you may be assigning (disrespect, control, reputation).
Lower the temperature with a “soft answer.” Choose words that reduce heat instead of multiplying it (Proverbs 15:1).
Practice the James 1:19 order. Listen first, speak second, slow down the emotional surge (James 1:19–20).
Refuse the ego-escalation loop. When a dispute becomes about winning or saving face, pause and step back before it grows.
Ask peacemaker questions out loud. “What outcome would honor God here?” “What would repair this relationship?” “Is there a way to make this smaller?” (Matthew 5:9).
Use third-party help early when needed. When you and the other person cannot resolve it, involve a trusted mediator before the conflict becomes entrenched—like arbitration, but at the human scale.
Choose restraint as a form of strength. The ability to stand down can be as consequential as the ability to stand up.
TL;DR
I contrast the famous shot at Lexington Green (April 19, 1775) with a lesser-known rifle shot in 1859.
On June 15, 1859, in the disputed San Juan Islands, an American farmer (Lyman Cutlar) shot a pig that was eating his potatoes.
The pig’s owner (Charles Griffin, connected to the Hudson’s Bay Company) demanded $100; Cutlar refused, and threats of arrest escalated the conflict.
U.S. troops under Captain George Pickett arrived; Britain sent warships—two major powers faced off over a single incident.
Washington and London ordered restraint; no shots were fired and no human blood was spilled.
The nations maintained a joint military occupation for 12 years, with soldiers eventually living peacefully near each other.
In 1872, Emperor Wilhelm I arbitrated the boundary in favor of the United States, and the dispute ended peacefully.
I use the Pig War to illustrate a biblical principle: pride and anger escalate conflict, while humility, patience, and peacemaking restrain it (Proverbs 15:1; James 1:19–20; Matthew 5:9).
Devotional Questions
This episode uses a strange historical moment to spotlight everyday spiritual habits: restraint, humility, and peacemaking.
In the Pig War story, what was the original problem—and what turned it into something bigger?
Where do you see pride show up in conflicts today (at home, online, at school, at work, or in politics)?
Proverbs 15:1 says a soft answer can turn away wrath. What does a “soft answer” sound like in your family’s everyday conversations?
James 1:19–20 tells us to be swift to hear and slow to speak. What makes that hardest when you feel attacked or misunderstood?
Jesus calls peacemakers “children of God” (Matthew 5:9). What is one situation where you could practice peacemaking this week?