The Reduced Shakespeare Company performs all 37 of William Shakespeare's plays in 97 minutes. Perhaps someone should donate a set of tickets for their next production to Bertie Ahern as a tribute, given that he too appears to be able to pull off the impossible with ease, writes Breda O'Brien.
The tickets might also suit him, given that he wants to reduce the high drama of 43 separate constituency counts to two hours, rather than days.
At the time of writing, it is still not clear who will form the next government. All that is obvious is Fianna Fáil's triumphant surge. Ahern might seize on this as proof that we should abandon the "aul' pencils" and embrace e-voting. He envies the French who know the result a mere two hours after voting closes. This might be convenient for scribblers like myself, but it would hardly compensate for the loss to society if mere efficiency trumped the educative effect of the rituals surrounding elections.
In Reduced Shakespeare, The Complete Guide for the Attention-Impaired, (Abridged), the writers suggest that one of the themes of Hamlet can be reduced to "poop, or get off the pot". It might be considered a loss if that sage saying were to permanently replace "To be, or not to be". The Reduced Shakespeare Company at least have the advantage of being funny, as they merrily reduce Shakespeare to soundbites. A reduced election count would merely be dull, dull, dull.
It would be unwise to push the comparison between Irish politics and Shakespeare too far, even if the bard, as prescribed by Aristotle's definition of tragedy, did produce many works in which the protagonist is an admirable but flawed character with whom the audience can still sympathise. Not to mention the moments of farce, the shocking surprises, the desire for vengeance and the theme of courtship between unlikely partners that feature in other plays.
Forty-three tragi-comedies are played out in the constituencies. What is the benefit of having it all over in hours? Some argue that it might be kinder to the candidates than drawn-out recounts, but I doubt Nora Owen would agree.
I think I was about 10 the first time I went to an election count, watching in fascination as the tallymen totted at lightning speed the votes for their respective candidates. It reminded me of a great sporting event then, and it still does. The cynical might suggest it is closer to a blood sport, but it is more like an All-Ireland - a mixture of passion and illogical loyalties that manage to sweep even those who are not die-hard fans into the intensity of the moment.
Rituals matter. Every society throughout history has had rituals as a way of celebrating in a symbolic way what they most value. Not all rituals are benign, but rituals are associated with every important moment, from birth to death. The rituals associated with voting matter. They are not just incidental.
From the moment the first ballot boxes are examined to ensure they are empty, to when the last candidate is declared elected, everything is conducted according to a pattern. Each stage has a human face.
Why do we want to replace all that merely for the sake of speed? Rituals have to continuously evolve, and they become empty if they no longer speak to people.
Despite the good turnout this time, it is clear that voting is a ritual that no longer speaks to significant amounts of young people. I was saddened to hear of a pupil in a west of Ireland school who is the only one in his year who will vote, although many of his classmates are entitled to do so. In contrast, I remember at a Young Social Innovators Showcase the students from Coolock who wanted a voter registration ceremony in their school to ensure that everyone saw voting for the first time as a valuable rite of passage. If a ritual is emptied of meaning, the values it nourishes die. One of the arguments in favour of e-voting is that it will appeal to younger voters. My suspicion is that it will make voting an even bigger yawn for them than it is now.
The apathy among younger voters is a curious mix of feeling powerless and without influence, combined with a dash of laziness. The small amount of effort it requires to leave the television or to get up early to vote is part of being a citizen, but to leave one's own space to enter a communal arena also fosters a sense of involvement.
Rituals evolve to meet needs and, in this case, the need is not just to elect representatives, but to do so in a way that is transparent, accountable and trustworthy. Our attempt to introduce e-voting has been a fiasco. The Commission for Electronic Voting found the software so flawed it could not recommend it. The commission was not charged with looking at how verifiable the system is.
There is no paper trail, no means of checking the validity of the vote other than: "Trust me, I'm a computer." The politicians that we trusted bought a pig in a poke and, now, housing that purchase costs about €1 million a year. Fianna Fáil may claim that throwing another half-a-million euro at it will fix it, but few independent experts seem to agree.
And don't bother calling those who want to retain the human face of voting Luddites. Even the original Luddites were not opposed to all machinery, but to "machinery hurtful to commonality". Some of the most vocal opponents of e-voting are those who work in information technology: their understanding of technology makes them queasy about entrusting our democracy to it.
I have a suggestion for Fianna Fáil if they are returned to government. Put the e-voting machines up for sale on eBay, and give whatever sum they raise to Irish Aid. That would be a positive use of technology.