The Right Eye Clause: When Peace Talks Get Weird
As I read through 1 Samuel 9–12, I found myself pausing on a particular moment in chapter 11. Nahash the Ammonite lays siege to Jabesh-Gilead and offers a peace treaty—but only if he can gouge out the right eye of every man in the city. It’s a vivid and unsettling image, and it left me wondering: why the right eye? Why this specific form of violence?
Strategy or Sadism? A Closer Look
The text suggests that Nahash wanted to disgrace Israel, but there seems to be more behind this than symbolic humiliation. In the context of ancient warfare, the right eye was particularly important for soldiers. Most would have held their shields in their left hand, which covered the left side of their face. The right eye was then the one used to see, aim, and stay alert in battle. Removing it would effectively make someone unable to fight. From that angle, Nahash’s demand was not just about dishonor—it was a strategic move to disarm a population.
Mutilation as Messaging
There’s also the broader historical backdrop to consider. Physical mutilation as a form of punishment or domination wasn’t unusual in the ancient Near East. Some rulers cut off fingers, toes, or blinded captives as a way of asserting control and discouraging rebellion. A one-eyed man would be a daily reminder of submission, both to himself and to those around him.
Trouble East of the Jordan
Jabesh-Gilead itself adds another layer to this. The town is located east of the Jordan River, and some scholars suggest it may have had connections to the tribe of Benjamin—the same tribe Saul comes from. That detail might explain why Nahash thought they were isolated enough to be easy targets, and why Saul responded so forcefully when he heard the news.
Saul Steps Up (Finally)
This episode is often seen as a turning point for Saul. Up to this point, his role as king hasn’t been fully embraced. But when news of Jabesh-Gilead reaches him, he acts quickly and decisively, rallying the people to defend their neighbors. After the victory, the people publicly affirm his kingship. Whether or not Saul intended this to be his proving moment, it becomes one.
Eye Patches, Power Plays, and Open Questions
What stands out in all of this is how much a leader’s role can be shaped by circumstance. Saul didn’t choose the conflict with Nahash, but it demanded action. The people didn’t rally around him just because he had been named king—they followed him because he responded when something needed to be done.
I still don’t know exactly how to process the violence in this story. It raises difficult questions about what power looked like in the ancient world, and how far leaders would go to maintain it. But I do find myself thinking about the impact of physical threats on social order, and about the way crises sometimes clarify leadership, whether people are ready for it or not.
There’s no neat conclusion here—just a moment in the story that opens up more questions than answers.