Fans of the 1964 film Zulu could be forgiven for thinking that the Archbishop of Canterbury has confused his southern African tribes as he searches for peace in the Anglican Communion.

After all, the Zulus have long been famed for their bloodlust, courage and military prowess rather than their diplomatic skills.

Tribal violence is not one of the skills that Anglicans seem to lack as they teeter on the brink of schism.

Much of the Zulus’ reputation was earned at the expense of the British in the late 19th century. They defeated the colonial forces at the Battle of Isandlwana in 1879, handing Britain its most severe reverse before the First World War.

Revenge came at the Battle of Rorke’s Drift. In the film version, wave after wave of tribal warriors were cut down by better-armed and better-drilled British soldiers led by Stanley Baker.

They may have been defeated but they had earned the respect of the British colonial classes along with a reputation as a violent, warrior people.

But the myth hid the fact that the Zulus were just like any other herding tribe. When attacked, their warriors would defend the cattle. At other times their elders would be just as happy to meet under a tree to settle grievances. Each of their indabas – meaning “business” or “meeting” – was a chance for the community to air its views or solve disputes with neighbouring tribes.

A century later the term was picked up by politicians keen to assert their Africanness. The African National Congress has held indabas on everything from party conferences to small-molecule chemistry.

Even the Scouts adopted the term in the 1950s to describe their global gatherings.

And anyway, so what if the old Zulu image of spear-carrying warriors with dozens of bare-breasted wives lives on? In an era of empty pews and declining congregations it could be just what the Church of England needs.