At the center of it all is a single, powerful concept: sovereignty. Or, depending on which version you read, something else entirely.
Setting the Scene: A Nation at a Crossroads
In the early 19th century, New Zealand (Aotearoa) was a land in flux. European sealers, whalers, traders, and settlers—known in te reo Māori as Pākehā—were arriving in increasing numbers. With them came new technologies and trade opportunities, but also lawlessness, disease, and conflict over land. The British Crown, seeking to formally establish a colony and impose order, dispatched Captain William Hobson to negotiate a treaty with the leaders of the various Māori iwi (tribes).
The result was the Treaty of Waitangi. Hobson drafted the English text, which was then hastily translated into Māori overnight by missionary Henry Williams and his son Edward. This Māori version, Te Tiriti o Waitangi, was the one that most chiefs read and signed. And right from the first article, the seeds of misunderstanding were sown.
The Word That Split a Nation: Kāwanatanga vs. Sovereignty
The core of the issue lies in Article One. The English text is unequivocal. Māori leaders were to:
“…cede to Her Majesty the Queen of England absolutely and without reservation all the rights and powers of Sovereignty…”
In the 19th-century British legal tradition, “sovereignty” was an absolute concept. It meant supreme, ultimate, and indivisible power over a territory. To cede sovereignty was to hand over all authority, period.
But the translators faced a monumental challenge. The Māori language had no single word that perfectly captured this European concept of a supreme, centralised national authority. Māori society was structured around the authority of iwi (tribes) and hapū (sub-tribes), each with its own dominion.
Their solution? They created a word based on English: kāwanatanga.
This term is a transliteration. It’s built from “kāwana”, the Māori-ised version of the English word “governor,” and combined with the nominalising suffix “-tanga” (similar to “-ship” or “-ness” in English). Therefore, kāwanatanga literally translates to “governorship” or “governance.”
To the Māori chiefs, this was a familiar concept, not from English law but from the Bible, which missionaries had translated into Māori. In it, figures like Pontius Pilate were referred to as “kāwana.” He was a representative of a foreign empire who administered Roman law but was not the ultimate ruler of the land or its indigenous people. The chiefs likely understood they were granting the British Queen the right to govern the growing and often unruly population of Pākehā and to maintain order. It was a practical granting of power, not a complete surrender of their own authority.
The Guarantee That Complicated Everything: Tino Rangatiratanga
If Article One created ambiguity, Article Two turned it into a direct contradiction. It was meant to be the trade-off, outlining what Māori would retain.
The English version guarantees Māori:
“…the full exclusive and undisturbed possession of their Lands and Estates, Forests, Fisheries and other properties…”
This sounds like a guarantee of property rights, which would exist under the umbrella of British sovereignty.
The Māori version, however, uses a much more powerful phrase. It guarantees the chiefs, their hapū, and all the people of New Zealand:
“…te tino rangatiratanga o o ratou wenua o o ratou kainga me o ratou taonga katoa.”
The key phrase here is tino rangatiratanga. Rangatiratanga itself means chieftainship, authority, and the right to exercise power. The word tino is an intensifier, meaning “absolute,” “unqualified,” or “true.”
So, while the English version guaranteed “possession of properties,” the Māori version guaranteed “the absolute and unqualified chieftainship/sovereignty” over their lands (wenua), villages (kainga), and all their treasures (taonga). The term taonga has since been interpreted to include intangible treasures like language and culture.
In essence, from a Māori perspective, Te Tiriti read like this:
- We grant the Crown governance (kāwanatanga).
- In return, our own absolute sovereignty (tino rangatiratanga) is confirmed and guaranteed forever.
From the Māori point of view, they were agreeing to a partnership—a relationship where two systems of authority would coexist. The British would govern their own people, while Māori would continue to govern theirs.
The Linguistic Fallout: A Legacy of Protest and Reinterpretation
The British, however, acted according to their version. They believed they had been granted absolute sovereignty, and they proceeded to impose laws, acquire land, and govern as if Māori authority was subordinate to the Crown. This clash of understanding led directly to the brutal New Zealand Wars of the mid-19th century, large-scale land confiscation, and the systematic marginalisation of Māori society and language.
For more than a century, the English version was upheld as the only valid one by the government and courts. Te Tiriti was dismissed as a “simple nullity.”
But the Māori understanding never went away. In the 20th century, a protest movement grew, demanding that the government “Honour the Treaty.” This pressure led to the establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal in 1975. The Tribunal’s purpose is to investigate claims of breaches of the Treaty of Waitangi. Crucially, its work has consistently centered on the linguistic differences between the two texts, affirming that the Māori text is the authentic voice of the agreement made by the chiefs.
Words Shape Worlds
The story of the Treaty of Waitangi is a powerful and sobering lesson in the real-world consequences of translation. It demonstrates that words are not just labels; they are vessels for complex cultural, political, and philosophical concepts. “Sovereignty” did not have a direct equivalent in te reo Māori because the underlying concept didn’t exist in the same way.
Today, the debate continues. The concepts of kāwanatanga and tino rangatiratanga are at the forefront of legal and political discourse in New Zealand. The nation is still grappling with how to reconcile these two promises and build the partnership that Māori signatories believed they were entering into in 1840. It all serves as a reminder that when cultures meet, the most important bridge—and the most fragile—is language itself.