BRIDGING FAITHS, BUILDING PEACE

 PATRICK KANTIOK reckons that the former Archbishop of Canterbury’s visit to Kaduna is an endorsement of the prevailing atmosphere of peaceful coexistence

There was a time when the mention of Kaduna State in national conversations triggered a reflexive tightening of the shoulders. It was a place Nigerians spoke about in trepidation. Ethnic and religious clashes could happen in a flash. And they did. For years, apart from a reputation as a northern Nigeria powerhouse, it was shorthand for tension. 

That is why the quiet significance of Governor Uba Sani receiving the former Archbishop of Canterbury, His Grace Justin Welby, at the Sir Kashim Ibrahim House goes far beyond diplomatic courtesy. It is a moment heavy with symbolism, one that speaks to how far the state has travelled and, more importantly, to the kind of leadership guiding that journey.

When Archbishop Welby, who was in town as guest speaker at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, convocation lecture, reflected on his first visit to Kaduna in 2002, he held up a mirror to history. Then, Kaduna was a state struggling under the weight of ethno-religious crises. 

“What I see today is very different from what I encountered in 2002,” Welby said.

“The peace and sense of unity are evident, and that does not happen by accident.” 

To hear him now acknowledge the relative peace, unity and stability that define today’s Kaduna is not just flattering validation. It is external confirmation that something fundamental has shifted. Peace, after all, is most credible when it is noticed by those who have seen the chaos before.

Governor Sani’s response to that reflection is revealing. Rather than treating peace as a happy accident or a public relations talking point, he framed it as the product of deliberate choices. “The absence of ethno-religious crises during this period is not accidental,” Sani said, speaking about the gains of the Kaduna Peace Model. “It is the result of intentional leadership choices and a rejection of identity-based politics.” 

The so-called Kaduna Peace Model is not an abstract slogan. It is a comprehensive, non-kinetic security strategy that prioritizes dialogue, social justice, and inclusive development over purely military force. It was developed in collaboration with the Office of the National Security Adviser and integrates a Disarmament, Demobilisation, Rehabilitation and Reintegration (DDRR) program to offer repentant individuals a path back to civil life. It is governance with intent, involving inclusion instead of selective listening and fairness instead of favouritism. 

In a state once synonymous with division, the absence of ethno-religious conflict over the past two and a half years is no small feat. It is the outcome of leadership that understands that peace is not declared but built, brick by careful brick. It is commendable leadership.

And in a country where leaders are often boxed, willingly or otherwise, into identity camps, Governor Sani has chosen to step across lines rather than deepen them. His attendance at Christmas carol services may seem symbolic, but symbolism matters deeply in fractured societies. When a Muslim governor shows up, not as a guest ticking a box but as a leader affirming shared citizenship, it sends a message louder than any speech. It says: you belong. It says: your faith is not a political liability. It says: this state is yours too.

That message resonates particularly in Southern Kaduna, a region long burdened by narratives of neglect, grievance and fear. For decades, Southern Kaduna featured prominently in reports of violence and mutual suspicion. Today, while no one pretends that all problems have magically disappeared, there is a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Communities are breathing again. Farmers are returning to their farms. Markets are bustling. The economy is growing. Religious festivals are observed with less anxiety. Peace there is not theoretical. Sadly, few miscreants continue trying to spoil the good tide. 

In all, something that distinguishes Sani-led administration’s style is the understanding that peace cannot be sustained without justice, and that justice must be seen to be fair. Indeed, inclusive governance should not be seen as a mere catch phrase. When communities feel seen and heard, they are less susceptible to the politics of resentment. When the government engages rather than dictates, grievances find non-violent outlets. This is how fear gives way to trust. And how suspicion slowly transforms into shared purpose.

The Archbishop of Canterbury’s decision to visit the Sir Kashim Ibrahim House was therefore not accidental. It was an acknowledgement that Kaduna’s story is changing in a way worth encouraging. Religious leaders, perhaps more than anyone, understand the fragile architecture of peace. They know how quickly it can collapse under careless leadership and how painstaking it is to rebuild. For one of the world’s most prominent Christian figures to publicly recognise progress in religiously-diversed Kaduna is a powerful endorsement of the path the state is currently on.

Yet, what makes Uba Sani’s effort particularly compelling is its quietness. There is no triumphalism of victory over division. Instead, there is a sober recognition that peace is a process, not a destination. His language consistently emphasises sustaining reconciliation, deepening unity and building a future defined not by past fractures but by collective progress. That humility is important. It acknowledges that the wounds of the past are real and that healing them requires patience, consistency and sincerity.

In a country where politics often thrives on difference, Kaduna under Uba Sani offers a counter-narrative. It exemplifies that balance is possible, that equality is not a zero-sum game, and that religious tolerance strengthens rather than weakens governance. His administration’s insistence on dialogue over discord is especially refreshing in an era of social media outrage and instant condemnation. Listening, engaging and mediating may not trend online, but they prevent graves from filling up offline.

The broader implication of Kaduna’s evolving narrative should not be lost on the rest of Nigeria. If a state with such a complicated history of ethno-religious tension can chart a new course, then excuses elsewhere begin to wear thin. Peace is not the absence of diversity. Rather, it is the management of diversity with fairness and respect. Governor Sani’s tenure so far suggests that when leadership refuses to weaponise identity, citizens respond with restraint and cooperation.

This is not to canonise a governor or to pretend that challenges do not remain. Security threats still exist, economic pressures still bite, and social trust must be constantly nurtured. But leadership is ultimately judged by direction, not perfection. And Kaduna’s direction today is unmistakably towards cohesion rather than confrontation. 

Governor Sani’s greatest contribution may well be making peace feel normal again in a place where conflict once felt inevitable. In doing so, he is not just governing Kaduna but quietly rewriting its story. And for a state that has carried the weight of old headlines for too long, that is no small achievement.

The image of Sani, a Muslim governor, hosting the Archbishop of Canterbury in Kaduna, while also attending Christmas carols and presiding over a state enjoying relative calm in places once defined by bloodshed, is more than a photo opportunity. It is a snapshot of possibility. It reminds us that Nigeria’s diversity need not be its curse. With intentional, inclusive and fair leadership, it can be its strength.

Kantiok writes from Kaduna