Voters knew a gimmick when they saw it

Emphatically, unequivocally, and with a tremendous resounding belly laugh, the Irish people have given the governing politicians a swift kick to the nether regions. The twin referendums on amending our beloved constitutional text to become more modern, progressive and inclusive have failed so dramatically that one can almost hear the deflating wheezes echoing from Dublin's desert of empty ministerial offices.

Let's dispense with the niceties first. Leo Varadkar and his merry band of bumblers royally cocked this one up. Taking their cues from previous victories on same-sex marriage and abortion rights, the Fine Gael leader and his coalition cohorts catastrophically misjudged the mood of the nation. Like a lousy panto plagued by wardrobe malfunctions, the whole shambling affair was miscast, appallingly scripted, and directed with all the nuance of a drunken fog horn.

What were they thinking, wheeling out such woolly imprecisions as "durable relationships" to redefine the family unit? Did any of the bright sparks in government imagine that the Irish people - a canny, irreverent bunch not easily given to airy abstractions - would embrace something so unashamedly vague? We may revel in the lyrical flow of our native tongue, but even we know gobbledygook when we hear it.

Then there was the half-baked plan to replace "a woman's life within the home" with some gussied-up deception about the state's responsibility to "support" carers. A worthy enough aim, but why strip out any explicit mention of women and mothers? In one tone-deaf swoop, the would-be constitutional tinkerers managed to unite conservative mothers and progressive feminists in mutual outrage.

Through a combination of arrogance, haste, and plain old bungling, the Government's "gimmicky" timetabling of the vote for International Women's Day proved to be their undoing. Nothing enrages the Irish more than the reek of being patronised. We may revel in romantic ideals but also have a keenly-honed sense of bulls**t detection. By rushing out a set of half-formed, ill-communicated proposals, the powers-that-be insulted the electorate's intelligence while opening themselves up to accusations of box-ticking 'wokers'.

And so it was that a whopping 67% of voters emphatically stuck two fingers up at the Family clause, while an astounding 74% majestically turned thumbs down on the Care amendment - the largest referendum rejection in the nation's history. This chastening, perhaps even humbling, result has left the entire political establishment flatfooted and slack-jawed.

In the aftermath, plenty of blame pie has been served up, with juicy portions reserved for the chipper figure of An Taoiseach himself. Within his party, the knives are being sharpened with relish as Fine Gael TDs begin the familiar game of distancing themselves from the fiasco.

Varadkar's smooth efforts at damage limitation smacked of a salesman trying to flog a dead mule. Admitting he "got this wrong" while claiming the Virgin TV interview clip (in which he said the onus for care cannot rest with the State) had been taken out of context was about as convincing as a deflating bouncy castle. He may have survived the initial fallout, but the Taoiseach is undoubtedly weakened, the embarrassing result leaving a stain that won't easily wash out.

Not that the other parties are blameless either. Micheal Martin's Fianna Fáil and the Greens under Eamon Ryan feebly echoed the "yes-yes" line while internally fretting about the incoherent messaging. Sinn Féin's opportunistic Mary Lou McDonald postured about ignoring Citizens' Assemblies while still officially endorsing a double yes. Only Aontú's Peader Tobin, the sole parliamentarian advocating a no-no vote, could look the media in the eye after the defeat.

Across the land, the 'No' side marshalled disparate forces, from conservative family values types to disability rights activists and progressive feminists outraged at the de-womanising of the text. United in their visceral distrust of the political machine, they mobilised just enough of a disgruntled rump to send the proposals packing. When you lose so comprehensively, the earnest big beasts of the 'Yes' campaign can't simply dismiss it as an irrelevant blip of backwoodsmen and cranks.

So where does this momentous doubling-down of the national 'No' leave us? For a start, let's dispatch with any talk of Ireland lurching back to the conservative Catholic mores of the past. That horse has long bolted, and aside from the usual hot-headed reactionaries, most accept the country is indelibly changed. Any suggestion that this rejected modernity or progressive social values is a stretch too far.

Instead, we are witnessing the culmination of deep wells of public disillusionment with the political ruling classes. Everything from the chaotic campaign to the rushed time-frame to the vague and alienating constitutional language reeked of the sort of remote, high-handed bungling that has become par for the course in recent decades. Lest we forget, this was also an electorate smarting from the sting of soaring living costs, the ever-present housing crisis, and a health service teetering in disarray. The referendums were simply the spark that lit an existing mattress fire of discontent.

This brings us to the real crunch - what is next for our flailing leaders as we stumble towards an inevitable general election within the next 12 months? Both Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil can ill afford the perception of disarray in their ranks, but the acid recriminations are already being meted out in spades behind closed doors. Meanwhile, the smaller players will shrug and move on. Ryan's Greens must be bracing for another round of soul-searching over just how far they've drifted from their roots.

Most concerning for Varadkar will be the sight of erstwhile allies and civic bodies who spearheaded the referendum campaigns washing their hands of future broken causes.

There will be ample scope for blame-spreading as the election hurtles into view, but the unavoidable truth is that, yet again, an Irish government has fallen victim to its arrogant assumptions about the people. Mired in the inescapable Dublin bunker mentality, contemptuous of actual voter sentiment, they marched cheerfully into battle waving tattered standards that nobody felt inclined to follow.

Perhaps the most stinging rebuke is that, while the well-heeled enclaves of South Dublin obediently voted yes, the 73% national batting down of the Care amendment crossed all class and geographic divides. For all our maddening contradictions, the Irish psyche fundamentally mistrusts any glib, top-down effort to rewrite immutable national self-conceptions at a stroke, no matter how old-fashioned the language. Change must be earned and inched out carefully and with consensus.

So, while the referendum corpses get shovelled into their shallow graves, let An Taoiseach and his cohorts reflect long and hard on this unambiguous kicking. For an island forged in struggle, sloganeering about a "new, modern, progressive Ireland" counts for nought if it rides roughshod over the complexities of who we are. Our cantankerousness may irritate those who crave a slick, manageable narrative, but it represents the beating heart of our essential contrariness.

They'll do well to remember that we Irish are a suspicious lot, in love with the myth of ourselves as plucky underdogs and instinctively contemptuous of naked power grabs. We'll embrace change and modernity eagerly enough, but only once we've been thoroughly massaged, seduced, and convinced it's our idea all along. Anything less just prompts the raised pencils and decisive Xs once again.