As she hurried past the television cameras, a woman muttered, “I wish it was all over”. She was referring to today’s referendum on repealing the law on abortion in the Republic of Ireland, and no wonder she sounded sour. This subject is dividing the country, making citizens decide between old and new, religious and secular, hard-line and open-minded, feudal and democratic.

The navel-gazing arguments that raged during our independence referendum were as nothing to the social schism this referendum exposes. The atmosphere in Ireland as this day of reckoning approached has been tense, not just because the gap between the two sides has been narrowing, but because the outcome will determine the nature of Ireland for years to come.

Rarely has an ethical decision been so crucial to the direction a nation takes. At stake is whether to legalise terminations – “abortion on demand” as the No camp calls it – or to keep the current legislation intact. This statute, known as the Eighth Amendment, stipulates that, except when it is almost certain a woman will die, abortion under any other circumstances is illegal. It matters not whether she was raped, or the foetus is fatally ill or disabled, ending a pregnancy at any stage whatsoever is a crime.

As we all know, Irish women are currently obliged to leave the country for abortions, either here in the UK, or in Europe. Those who cannot afford to do so can buy abortificants online. This is not only highly dangerous, but the sentence for inducing a miscarriage is up to 14 years in jail – longer than served by many rapists and murderers.

The root of the dilemma, of course, is the Catholic Church. For all its veneer of modernity – including being first to legislate for same-sex marriage – Ireland is still in thrall to the church. In 1937, when the Irish Constitution was written, it was passed to the Vatican for approval. Those upholding the Eighth Amendment are generally devout, taking their cue not from the Bible, but from the priests and cardinals and popes down the ages who have insisted that women’s pregnancies are a matter whose terms and conditions a cabal of men can control.

Discussions about abortion are unavoidably unpleasant, the subject being so sensitive and painful. The shocking images used by pro-lifers would make anyone flinch. Even in the most clear-cut of cases, where a termination is in the best interests of the unborn child, preventing an existence of intense misery and distress, the prospect of ending a newly-begun life is nothing less than dreadful. Yet for some, it remains the only humane choice, for their baby and for themselves. For women whose foetus is healthy, but who are unwilling to have the child for whatever reason, the decision is possibly even harder. Regardless of the circumstances, and contrary to the fears of moral panickers, precious few take it lightly.

What I find so disturbing about this debate is the heavy hand of the pious upon it. Behind them stand the serried ranks of a church that has shown itself undeserving of the respect it still expects and demands. From child abuse scandals to the cruel and demeaning treatment of unwed mothers and their vulnerable children, to the hypocrisy of a celibate clergy (who were often anything but) pontificating on how women should think and behave, Catholicism has imposed a legacy of shame and denigration that, in its harshness and misogyny, is worse than medieval.

Those against repeal argue that the unborn child’s right to life is as important as its mother’s. The theology behind that is stronger than the science, but they are nevertheless entitled to their view. What makes this such a toxic issue, however, is that changing the law would not personally matter one iota to those of that persuasion, who are not being asked to alter their ideas or actions. It would, however, make a world of difference to people who see things differently, who would no longer be made to feel like outlaws in their own land.

Is this, then, a simple clash between old and modern, between Christians and non-believers? I don’t think so. Many practising Catholics believe that abortion is defensible under certain circumstances. Just as many upholders of tradition think compassion for a pregnant woman the mark of civilised society, not a step closer to the gates of hell.

At heart, this is not about the old guard and the new, but about the state freeing itself from a church that for too long has wielded far too much power and influence. Repealing the abortion law would be a statement of moral independence, a way in which Ireland can unshackle itself from its ancient and unelected ruler. In short, it would put religion in its rightful place, which most emphatically is not in the Taoiseach’s office or the doctor’s surgery.

This is not to pour scorn on those who cannot countenance abortion, but to allow freedom of choice. The verdict of today’s referendum will seal Ireland’s reputation, either as a Vatican outpost, or as a place where a catholicity of views is welcome.