Seanad referendum failed because of complete failure of leadership

Lions led by donkeys. The phrase refers to the brave soldiers led by incompetent generals in the First World War, but it could just as easily refer to us.

The people of a country under siege, struggling to break out of an economic mess created by a previous leadership of donkeys. And beginning to succeed, despite a level of leadership that continues to border on the asinine.

The result of the Seanad referendum was a microcosm of all that. A complete, and abject failure of leadership. That’s why the Government lost the referendum, and no other reason.

The Taoiseach’s assertion that it would have been inappropriate for him to debate a proposition that he believed was good for our democracy is just daft. For him to say, as he did on Saturday, that he went to public meetings all over the place and answered questions here, there, and everywhere, but still wouldn’t stand on a platform and discuss an idea, is indefensible.

In the last referendum, on children’s rights, the Government assigned the task of winning the campaign to a line minister, Frances Fitzgerald, and left her pretty well on her own throughout. She did a great job, but the referendum was almost lost because of the confusion and fear sown by the opposition to that idea. In the aftermath of that campaign, I wrote here that the lesson to be learned was that if government wants to persuade the people to a point of view, it has to throw itself wholeheartedly into the task.

In the last referendum, they threw money into a leaflet that was proved in the end to be essentially unconstitutional and misleading. In this one, they threw money into grubby posters that became an issue. Those Government spokespeople who were sent out spent half their time defending the figures on those posters. The wiser ones, like Alex White, didn’t bother — they tried instead to mount an argument about real issues of reform. But I never saw Richard Bruton in public without seeing him forced to defend the accuracy of his own highly dubious arithmetic.

In the end, they were seen as spending €14m million on a referendum that was about saving six or seven. It’s hard to imagine a more stupid proposition. Even if Fine Gael’s figures were right, the Seanad costs each year about the same as building a mile or two of motorway. It was never about the money. No one could, or should, be surprised that the people rejected the spectacularly grubby arguments that were being put forward.

The other fundamental mistake made was that no-one was enabled to see the proposition as a genuine reform. The Houses of the Oireachtas is a club. From one end of the week to the next it’s a cloistered and cosseted place. Its members think of themselves as valuable and different, and find it impossible to consider reform other than in terms of their own rules.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve always regarded parliamentarians as a bit special — Dáil members anyway. You can’t get in there unless six or seven thousand of us vote for you. And every time we elect a TD, we reserve the right to ourselves to dismiss him or her the next time out.

So you’d imagine, wouldn’t you, that our TDs would regard the Dáil as our property. But they don’t. They see it as a place apart, and themselves as being members of something that’s a bit exclusive.

That’s why, when they talk about reform, it’s always about the committee system, or how to improve the legislative process. That kind of talk is understood by a certain elite corps of commentators and academics. But they never talk about how to make the place more accessible, or responsive. They talk about holding others to account, but never themselves.

Last Friday, we weren’t asked to vote on a reform package, properly spelled out and illustrated. We voted on one aspect of reform. It was like being asked to put a piece of a jigsaw in the right place, without being shown the other pieces, or even the picture on the box.

Back in the ‘80s, the people were asked by referendum to remove the constitutional ban on divorce, so the Dáil could legislate to give people whose marriages were over the right to begin again. The people said thanks, but no thanks. We don’t know what the Dáil would do once the ban was removed, and we’re not giving anyone carte blanche.

It seemed a bit heartless at the time. One minister, Mervyn Taylor, understood exactly what was needed. Over a number of years he set about introducing reforms that were possible under the existing constitution, to deal with all the implications that arise when a marriage is over.

Then he designed a referendum proposal to deal with the only remaining issue — the right to remarry — and couched it in careful, specific and explicit terms. It carried (not by much, but it carried) and the world continued to turn. The floodgates, widely predicted to open, stayed shut — because the people knew exactly what they were voting for.

This time, people felt they were voting for a pig in a poke — especially when the Taoiseach of the country felt it was beneath him to debate it. I don’t believe they thought it was a power grab — I think the vast majority of people thought this was just politics as usual. One the Senate was gone, the Dáil would carry on as it always has, comfortable and smug.

The problem is, there’s just too much evidence for that assertion. We voted for new politics in the last election. We knew that tough years lay ahead of us, but we thought our leaders would be with us throughout. Instead, austerity has looked like something imposed on us by people who aren’t too comfortable about practicing it or sharing it. They give us lectures about things like “drilling down” and “financial envelopes” as they prepare us for yet another budget in which we’ll all feel screwed to no great purpose. And they expect us to follow them down whatever alley they point us to.

I voted to abolish the Seanad. I did it in the hope rather than the expectation that it might begin the process of real reform. Right up to the moment of voting, I met people who were uncertain, and who had changed their minds because they couldn’t see the real benefit of what they were being asked to do.

But I see the result as a powerful statement by a fed-up people, and as a really healthy assertion. Everyone, I believe, wants to see a new and better way of doing things. They want to see real openness to change, a real commitment to be responsive to need and to focus on results that will make people’s lives better ultimately. And to explain what is going on, so we can all buy in.

The people have spoken now, and their message is clear. Only one question remains. How do we make our leaders listen?