The knowledge-power nexus is an essential feature of both democratic and authoritarian state-building projects. To what extent can scholarship serve as a propaganda tool of an ideologically-driven regime? Can a scholarly discipline be autonomous under constant ideological pressure from the authorities? How important is the internal dynamics of a scholarly field and the competition for the “monopoly of scientific authority”? Finally, what is the connection between the theory and practice of a profession and nationalism? Iurie Stamati addresses these questions in his book devoted to the case of medieval archaeology in the Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic (MSSR) under Soviet rule.

The author's approach is indebted, on the one hand, to the sociology of knowledge and, on the other, to the tradition of the sociology of intellectuals. Drawing on Pierre Bourdieu's classical notions of habitus and scientific field, Stamati provides a detailed discourse analysis of the so-called “Slavic dossier” in Moldavian Soviet archaeology. Stamati's theoretical framework also addresses the impact of nationalism—“the toolbox of nationalist ideology” (18)—on the trajectory of the archaeological discipline in the MSSR. He successfully deconstructs the concept of “ethno-genesis,” which underscored a primordialist and essentialist understanding of ethnicity. In fact, this view was espoused both by most Soviet archaeologists (in the case of the Slavs) and by post-Soviet Moldovan national historiography (in the case of the Romanians). Current Moldovan historiography perceives the Soviet period in starkly negative terms, emphasizing the paramount role of propaganda in subordinating scholarship. Unfortunately, the author does not develop his cogent criticism of the primordialist approach to ethnicity embraced by archaeologists further in the main body of the work. Stamati focuses on “two different discourses on the place of the ancient Slavs in the history of the territory of the Moldovan Soviet Socialist Republic, and the role they played in the genesis of Moldovans and their culture” (242).

The book, structured into three chapters, begins with a scrutiny of the institutional and intellectual history of Moldavian archaeology, from its early beginnings in the nineteenth century, under Tsarist rule, to its institutional consolidation after World War II. One of Stamati's most interesting conclusions is that, contrary to the tenets of the national historiography, Soviet archaeology “never developed or used a Marxist or Marxist-inspired methodology” (58). Instead, by applying the “retrospective method,” based on parallels and analogies with earlier periods or neighboring spaces, and by widely accepting the “objective” criterion of “ethnic indicators,” Soviet archaeology—except for a short period during the 1920s and 1930s—remained essentially ethnocentric. Ethnicity and the issue of ethnic attribution of archaeological artifacts was the main preoccupation of Soviet archaeologists, developing into a well-nigh obsession for some of them. This general framework paves the way for the following two substantive chapters, which systematically analyze, contrast, and compare the two opposing discourses on the role of the Slavs in the medieval history of the territory of the MSSR. The first discourse, developed and practiced by the Moscow-based archaeologist Georgii Fedorov and his Moldavian disciples, emphasized and privileged the role of the Slavs in the “ethno-genesis” of the Moldovans. The second, opposing discourse, mostly associated with the Moldavian “dissident” archaeologist Ion Hîncu, insisted on the autochthonous character of the Moldovan population and on the local roots of its material culture. Hîncu's position was heavily influenced by Romanian archaeologists. Stamati therefore discusses at length the evolution of the discipline in communist Romania after 1945 and the thorny relations between Romanian archaeologists and their Soviet peers.

One of the book's main strengths is the application of the biographical approach, allowing the author to develop a complex and sophisticated argument. Another strong point is the focus on the center-periphery relations in the case of Soviet Moldavian scholarship. The fascinating interplay of signals from the center and local hierarchies of power goes a long way towards explaining the evolution of the “Slavic dossier” in the MSSR. Far from mere reflections of the political and ideological contexts, both competing discourses were the combined results of political pressure, theoretical debates, personal and group rivalry, and an acute competition for scientific authority and status. A multi-dimensional picture of a dynamic, politically charged, but also partly autonomous “scientific field” ultimately emerges.

This is a thoroughly researched book, based on a wide array of published, archival, and oral history materials. It largely exhausts its topic, displaying an impressive familiarity with and grasp of the subject. Certain aspects (the comparative relevance of the “marginal” Moldavian case in the Soviet context—and beyond—or the connection between local nationalism, historiography, and the policies of the party leadership) could have been discussed more extensively. There are also frequent instances of sloppy editing (the word “indignity” appears several times instead of “indigeneity” [228, 230, 231, 245]). Despite these minor shortcomings, this book is a valuable contribution to the field. It will elicit the curiosity of scholars and readers interested in the history of Soviet Moldavia and the interplay of politics, nationalism, and scholarship on the Soviet periphery.