Footnote Page #4

This brings me to the good news.

No news can be good right now.

- It is that you...

will receive the Prize this year.

I beg your pardon?!

We're still trying to find out how this

happened. But it's probably due to...

a clerical error by a secretary

in the Minister's office.

She called your father instead of you, and...

The minister talked to him,

thinking she was talking to you.

This never happened to us before.

The legal advisor is here as well to...

to advise us on how to act

in this new situation.

Let me get this straight:

You called my father by mistake?

The minister had an entire conversation

thinking that she's talking with me?

As far as we could gather, yes.

I've never heard such an idiotic story.

The ramifications are terrible,

you know that, don't you?

Thats' why we wanted to speak to you,

to consult about what's the best way to proceed.

How could you confuse my phone number

with that of my father?

And why didn't you verify you had the right man,

before letting the Minister talk to him?

The secretary says that she called

the university

and asked to talk with Prof. Shkolnik.

She doesn't remember if she

mentioned the first name...

Since you were not there,

she asked for your mobile number

and then she dialled the number

she received from the faculty.

And your first names

start with the same letter.

One can understand how

such a mistake could happen.

But it didn't happen until now.

What about the press release?

You don't send something in writing?

We sent the letter to you, of course. You're

supposed to receive it soon, maybe today.

We didn't make the press release. - But there

was a report about it in Haaretz today.

The reporter must have heard

about it somehow, but not from us.

We're still trying to find out where

the journalist got the information from.

Anyone that knows can see it's not

the regular text we use.

I need a minute to think.

Excuse me. - Prof. Shkolnik...

It's a disaster. You have no idea.

- Prof. Shkolnik, I must ask you

not to talk to anyone

about this right now.

Maybe we should discuss this here,

in the room? - Let him calm down outside.

You're not going to call

anybody, right?

I don't know how to respond

to this error, except by saying

that now it's too late to

turn back the wheel.

You told my father he won

the Prize. You can't take it back.

Anyway, how did I become a candidate?

As far as I know,

no one recommended me. I asked

anyone who's involved in that

not to nominate me

as long as my father's a nominee.

And I know that he's been

nominated for many years now,

because I'm the one

who's nominating him each time.

I recommended you.

According to the rules, judges can

recommend their own candidates.

So I recommended you.

Each one of us wrote down

a name on a note

that he wanted to select

from the nominees.

And all of us, unanimously,

chose you.

We all think you deserve

to win this year.

What a mess.

I would like, if I may,

to focus on the legal aspects.

The winner can't be changed.

The reason we wanted

to consult with you

is what's the best way

to tell your father about the mistake.

Yes, well... The legal aspect

of it is all fine and well,

but we're talking about matters

of life and death here.

My father has been skipped over

for the last 20 years!

When he finally thinks that he's won,

you can't take it away from him.

It will kill him.

I'm not joking.

It will kill him.

And he deserves it, damn it!

He deserves to win the Israel Prize!

Someone else should be saying it!

- Enough!

This mistake should not have happened,

but once it did, we need to fix it,

not make it worse.

We are not discussing whether

Eliezer Shkolnik should win the Israel Prize.

So what do you suggest,

as the chairman of the committee?

The Minister should invite

Eliezer Shkolnik today,

to apologize to him and...

to congratulate him for this son

winning the prize. It's very simple.

Can you really imagine that happening?

My father coming to the office of the Minister,

not knowing why,

only to be told that the prize

is taken away from him...

And on top of that, that it's given

to his son instead?

I can't imagine it, because

it will not happen.

- I'm telling you right now:

If the winner is changed, I'm resigning

from the role of chairman. - Hold on,

Prof. Grossman, there's no need

to make grand proclamations.

Let's think about it for a moment.

Maybe it's not such a bad idea.

Eliezer Shkolnik has been nominated for years.

If Uriel is willing to give up the prize,

why shouldn't we consider giving it

to his father?

No way. You're exposing the Ministry

to a huge lawsuit.

If this becomes public...

Don't even think about it.

Why should it? Everyone who knows is in this room.

We'll have to talk to the Minister,

but we all want to keep this

between us.

It's not just a convenient solution,

it's the right and moral thing to do.

This injustice has been going on for years.

- Absolutely not!

Eliezer Shkolnik will never win the

Israel Prize under my watch.

I won't sign it off.

I'm sorry, Uriel, you know

I appreciate your work,

which is why I gave

the prize to you.

To you, not to the entire

Shkolnik family.

You may not pass this honour

on to your father.

This entire discussion is absurd!

The three of you have already

won the Israel Prize.

You know what it's like, the feeling

on the day you first hear about it.

Especially when it's someone

who for years felt

ostracized and boycotted, and then

the gates open in front of him,

and he hears:
"Welcome.

We accept you,

"and appreciate you."

To take away from him the serenity

that was given to him yesterday, is murder.

If the Israel Prize was given based

on compassion or charity,

the entire thing would have looked

differently.

We must maintain a consistently

high standard, without compromises.

So please tell me

why my father doesn't deserve

to win the Prize.

Compared to others.

Seriously, why not?

Is he any less compared to Hecht,

or to Goldberg, or Schefferman?

Notice I'm not mentioning any

of the people in this room!

I can argue why others

do deserve it.

But I'm not going to tell you

the faults I find in

your father's research.

Of course. Because that lets you hide

the fact that your resentment toward him

is personal, not professional.

- I don't know what you're implying,

but it's not relevant.

- I'm not implying,

I'm saying it explicitly. I think

that you hate my father.

For years you've been preventing his

promotion, hiding manuscripts from him,

sabotaging him in various committees

and publications.

His close relation with Feinstein

infuriated you while you were young

and to this day it distorts

your judgement!

You could have given him the Jerusalem

manuscript that you found.

He worked on it for 30 years,

it belongs to him!

It's his life's work, his entire world.

Everyone knew that!

But you published it

before he did. Why?

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