There are two distinct responses to the question of electronic voting. The first, mostly to be found among people aged over 35, is annoyance and outrage that one of the most enjoyable aspects of Irish democracy is to disappear. The second, largely among those under 35, is indifference.
They do not care much either way, because they do not see voting as that important in the first place.
If electronic voting is introduced, it will be a Pyrrhic victory. Not only will the measure fail to do anything to attract those who are most alienated, but it will annoy the heck out of those who are currently most engaged by the electoral process.
The presumption on the part of the Government seems to be that electronic voting represents progress, and therefore we must hasten to introduce it. In the age of the computer, the Government appears to find it embarrassing to vote using paper and pen and to count votes manually. Yet what kind of vision of progress is it to replace something which works well, which is replete with ritual and tradition, and enjoys a high degree of public trust, with something which people do not trust at all?
It represents a lack of confidence in ourselves to treat our current system as a badge of backwardness. Our haste to be seen as progressive raises a question pertinent to other aspects of Irish life. Should we do something simply because it allegedly represents progress, or should we look a little deeper at what we are losing by rushing to abandon what worked well in the past?
It might tell us something that the ones who are bored by the whole question of electronic voting are the people who came of age when Ireland suddenly became prosperous. They provide a living example of the dangers of setting the criteria for progress too narrowly. In their case, they were told that accumulating wealth was the Holy Grail. Given a choice between living in a rich country, and one so poor that it specialises in exporting young people, most of us would plump for the first. Yet it is impossible not to feel that the price that has been paid is very high.
Younger people tend to want to switch off when they finish working. They work hard, and they play hard, and they want to enjoy the money they earn. Nothing wrong with that, but it leaves little room for a sense of commitment to a wider community outside the purely private sphere. Yet it is hard to blame them, because modern economies actively encourage the notion that we are entitled to the best the market has to offer, because "we are worth it."
It is often claimed that advertising is one second behind popular culture. We laugh, but perhaps we should wince, at advertisements featuring children being sent on wild-goose chases down the garden while their parents scoff ice-cream indoors.
Another advertisement depicts a teacher stuffing her face with biscuits while her class looks glumly on. A star-struck young man decides that not even Jennifer Aniston's grateful smile is enough to part him from the bottles of alcohol that he can reach and she cannot. The message is hammered home - put yourself first. Indulge yourself.
Generosity is for wimps. In such a culture, there is little room for sacrifice on behalf of the common good, or engagement in the process of democracy. Marketers do not spend hours designing campaigns to build a sense of community, or a value system based on giving something back. They concentrate on brand envy, on making people feel that their value is determined by what they own. "Who dies with the most toys, wins."
In a funny kind of way, the Government's rush to implement electronic voting reflects exactly this kind of mentality. If something seems outdated, replace it. Never mind that it works perfectly well, and may even work better than what you are replacing it with. Instead of focusing on the means of voting, it might be of more value if we concentrated on why people are losing interest in voting in the first place.
There is no doubt that in the Irish context, the relentless drip-drip and occasional gush of revelations from assorted tribunals and commissions has had a corrosive effect. Yet disillusionment with government is also a feature of life in countries which do not have the Irish habit of kicking everything to touch by setting up a tribunal or commission.
The author Robert Putnam, who is visiting Ireland soon, sees decline in voting as a symptom of a decline in social capital. In his influential work, Bowling Alone, he defines social capital as the "connections between individuals, social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness which arise from them. A society of virtuous but isolated individuals is not necessarily rich in social capital."
The two-day (or more) election ritual, the intense discussion of the trends in the count, all contributed to social capital. The loss of such connections will weaken still further the incentive to become involved actively in politics. An arid if efficient vote, and there are doubts whether it will even be efficient, is a poor substitute.
If voting is in decline, it might be argued that the method of voting makes little difference, since those already actively engaged in politics are likely to be annoyed by the change, but not to the extent of neglecting to vote.
This ignores the fact that there is likely to be an ongoing effect. People need a reason to go out and canvass, much more to run for election. Passion counts in politics. The loss of the adrenaline generated by a count may not discourage a committed volunteer, but it certainly won't encourage any new people to get involved.
The newly appointed commission to whom we are entrusting the ultimate decision has been asked to assess the reliability of the new system. Yet it has not been asked to adjudicate on the most important question. Some voting touchscreens froze and terminals crashed on Super Tuesday in the US this week.
But even if we are guaranteed none of that will happen here, does it make sense to dispense with a style of count that has served Irish democracy well?
bobrien@irish-times.ie