Volatile as politics in these islands have become, it seems safe to conclude now that we will not have a united Ireland by Christmas, contrary to a famous prediction, more than a generation ago, in Star Trek.
During an episode from 1990, the chief operations officer on the Starship Enterprise – a super-rational, highly-advanced lifeform named Data – reflected with puzzlement on several historical examples in which “terrorism” had triumphed over politics. He listed them as follows: “The independence of the Mexican state from Spain, the Irish unification of 2024, and the Kenzie rebellion.” (No, reader, I have no idea who or what Kenzie was, either).
Of course it has been long-since apparent, and accepted by most of the former militants, that if Ireland were to be reunited in the timeframe specified, it would have to be by politics and not the gun. But as recently as a few years ago, the timing at least of Data’s retrospective prediction still seemed feasible.
In 2019, even one of this newspaper’s columnists – a super-rational, highly advanced lifeform named Fintan O’Toole – argued that Brexit might so precipitate it. His subheading summarised: “Star Trek predicted Irish unification in 2024. It’s not inconceivable that the series was right.”
A Head of its time – Frank McNally on the bicentenary of Howth Road and more about wakes
Alive and kicking – Frank McNally on the continued survival of the great Irish wake
Ogham thoughts – Frank McNally on a new artwork, an old alphabet, and the longest word in Irish
Presidential bearing – Brian Maye on Erskine Childers
Four months is a long time in politics, I know. But a snap Border poll between now and the new year, never mind a majority Yes vote, seems unlikely. Impossible, in fact. I’m going to stick my neck out here and suggest that there’s a better chance of the Kenzie rebellion finally kicking off this autumn.
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In the meantime, nationalist Star Trek fans can continue to take comfort, maybe even amusement, from knowing that Ireland’s cross-Border railway service is also called the Enterprise. It’s no starship, God knows: its progress north and south apparently retarded by the enormous gravitational pull of Dundalk. But as the name of a transport link between the different planets that are Dublin and Belfast, it’s a joke that even Data might have appreciated
Indeed, if his prediction of reunification is to happen at all, perhaps last month’s All-Ireland Strategic Rail Review might in time be seen as a small contributing factor.
The increased speeds, frequency, and interconnectivity envisaged would be welcomed by most reasonable people, north and south. Alas, there was mention in the plan of the Enterprise reaching warp speed anytime soon. And even magnetic levitation seems to beyond us for the moment.
Ubiquitous as the cliché has become, I was also a little disappointed that even the report of a futuristic vision for rail travel felt the need to include a section headed: “Roadmap for delivery”.
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My second-favourite Irish Star Trek sub-plot is the theory that the character of Spock was partly inspired by a painting on the wall of a Dublin pub.
The painting was A Bird Never Flew on One Wing, by Harry Kernoff, which hung for years in O’Brien’s of Leeson Street. There in the early 1960s, the story goes – told among other places in a 2012 biography of the artists – it was seen by a Hollywood set designer who brought the idea home with him. Kernoff was known for giving his subjects angular features, whether they had any to start with. When Brian O’Nolan (aka Flann O’Brien) complained about the shape of his head in a Kernoff portrait, for example, it had to be painted over with a hat.
And of the two drinkers depicted in A Bird Never Flew on One Wing, the one on the right is especially pointy, his features certainly reminiscent of Spock’s, if not their progenitor.
The man in question was a real-life Dubliner, nicknamed “Toucher” Doyle for his habit of seeking funds for drink everywhere he went. Even Kernoff had to admire his technique: “He touched me for ten bob while I was painting him but it was done with real artistry.”
That Doyle did his touching mostly in the pubs around North Earl Street, however, seems in retrospect significant. North Earl Street is now perhaps best known as the location of the “Dublin Portal”, which beams Dubliners up and across the Atlantic to New York, where another portal reciprocates.
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The earthbound Enterprise does not quite travel through the Louth village of Drumcar: it passes a little to the west of it. So if you’re attending a National Heritage Week event there this Sunday, you may have to beam yourself to the venue by other means.
But as Michael Holohan reminds me, the afternoon of music and talks has a subtext of exploration, focusing as it does on the long-standing friendship between the composer Charles Villiers Standford and a former rector of Drumcar, Francis Le Poer McClintock, relative and namesake of the arctic explorer.
Sunday’s event includes a talk on the McClintock family at Drumcar House, a programme of Stanford’s music at St Fintan’s Church of Ireland, and afternoon tea at the rectory. It all starts at 2.30pm. Tickets (€10) will probably be available on the door, but you can also get them in advance, from Bryan Rogers of the Annagassan Historical Society, at 087-9923739.