From 1895, Tomáš Masaryk—future first president of Czechoslovakia— adopted a position on historiography as part of his political platform. Rather than militantly reinforcing facts, Masaryk favored histories that prioritized “humanism”—histories that “subordinated [the past] to the present” so that they might offer insight into Czechs’ humanity. Much of Smetana scholarship during the first half of the twentieth century reflected this attitude. Zdeněk Nejedlý's writing for Smetana's centennial in 1924, for example, positioned Libuše and Má vlast as specifically relevant to the experience of World War I:

[Má vlast] … has more than once inspired the Czechs and pointed the way in their national struggle. Especially was this so in times of severe persecutions, as during the Great War, when freedom of speech was forbidden, and art itself and, above all, literature was fettered. It was then that Smetana's music, being mere “tones,” escaped the eye of the vigilant censor, and constituted the only genuine and free manifestation of the thoughts and feelings of the people and, therefore, called forth enthusiasm far greater than mere appreciation of music could evoke, and was so great as to arouse the suspicion of the Austrian authorities. At times like those Smetana did more than merely voice the thoughts of those forced to silence; the conclusion of Libuše as well as the last two poems [of Má vlast] sounded a prophecy, a vision of a happy, beautiful, glorious future to strengthen the Czechs in their struggle and point the way to their goal. That is the secret of Smetana's unique position as an artist, and of his extraordinary significance in the life of the Czech nation.

In keeping with Masaryk's philosophies, Smetana's nineteenth-century works remained as vital to Czechs during World War I, according to this account; their timeless Czechness even threatened Habsburg authorities while remaining ineffable enough to evade their censorship.

If “humanist” histories at the beginning of the century recast Smetana's works to suit new political circumstances and audiences, later governmentformulated attitudes toward historiography harnessed Smetana's works as tools of the state. In 1950 Miroslav Barvík, head of the Union of Czechoslovak Composers (Svaz československých skladatelů; hereafter UCC), delivered a speech in which he called for all music scholarship, especially on Smetana, to be infused with “ideovost,” the conscious reinscription of state ideology.