Meanwhile

Mahler’s songs gave voice to the forgotten

Through folk poetry, Gustav Mahler brought hunger, grief and exclusion into music that still speaks for marginalized people.

Published
A photograph of Gustav Mahler in the foyer of Vienna's opera house. This work was published on plate 12 of Richard Specht's Gustav Mahler (1913).


Na Sung-in

The author is a music critic and director of the classical music brand Poongwoldang. 


The Belle Époque, from 1871 to 1914, refers to roughly four decades of peace across Europe. Before World War I erupted, Europe underwent rapid economic development and was transformed into the industrial society familiar today. Those who enjoyed peace and prosperity readily called it the “beautiful era.”

Yet the phrase carries a bitter irony. What was a good time for some was anything but for others. The abundance enjoyed by the bourgeoisie was an unimaginable luxury for ordinary people, and that divide was faithfully reflected in art.

The arts, too, increasingly came to be organized around the interests of cultural producers and the convenience of cultural consumers. Those unable to enter this market gradually fell away. In this way, the cultural world of the Belle Époque began losing ordinary listeners.

Some composers resisted. Gustav Mahler, who lived as both a Jew and an outsider, recognized how unrealistic the “pure and beautiful” world portrayed by bourgeois art could be. If real life was a gutter, could art that remained only in the lofty heavens really be called truthful?

Mahler therefore returned to folk song — not the bourgeoisie’s idealized version, but songs that depicted life at the bottom without embellishment.

He made protagonists of people left outside society’s protection: a starving child, an exile, a captured deserter, a woman who has lost her lover, a child nearly trafficked, cannon fodder and a victim of fraud. He turned their stories into songs and symphonies so their lives would not be forgotten.

The realities they faced, of course, can still be found everywhere today. Perhaps only someone who has experienced exclusion can understand the sorrow of the nameless.

Giving a voice back to countless lives that have been excluded and cast aside is one of the central meanings of Mahler’s song collection “Des Knaben Wunderhorn” (“The Boy’s Magic Horn,” 1805-08). Drawing on German folk poetry collected by Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano, Mahler’s settings repeatedly bring marginalized figures into the musical foreground.

Rather than smoothing away suffering in pursuit of beauty, these songs allow hunger, violence, displacement and grief to enter art alongside humor, innocence and fantasy. Their subjects may belong to another century, but their vulnerability remains recognizable. In that sense, Mahler’s horn still sounds for people whom prosperous societies prefer not to hear. It asks listeners to hear not an abstract social category, but individual human beings whose fear, loneliness and dignity are made audible through music, across generations and borders.

This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.