Sound as a Ritual Practice of the Commons: Between Memory, Identity, and Social Transformation

Sound is never neutral: it is always laden with meanings, shaped by context, and capable of shaping our perception of space and reality. It is a collective experience, fostering bonds and belonging within a community—an act of connection, a tool enabling individuals to communicate and feel part of a whole. Within communities, sound becomes a ritual that moulds shared spaces, collective memories, and identities. The notion of the “ritual practice of the commons” implies not only the use of sound as a universal language but also as an element that transcends generations, cultures, and territories – thus uniting what appears separate. Historically, sonic practices have played a crucial role in constructing and maintaining a sense of community. From the ceremonial chants of Indigenous cultures to contemporary soundscapes, sound has acted as a tool for social connection and transformation — a shared experience and a universally recognised form of communication that transcends cultural, linguistic, and geographical boundaries. ¹

Sound as Emotional and Communal Expression

Sound has always been integral to the lives of individuals and communities. Humans have long borrowed sounds from their environments — imitating animals, objects, or weather — to summon, unite, divide, escape, or transcend the status quo. For instance, the funeral laments of the Kaluli people and ritual weeping in the Andaman Islands illustrate how sound is deeply tied to emotions, particularly when produced collectively rather than individually. In these contexts, the community acts as a resonance chamber for sound, while sound, in turn, amplifies the community. ²
The symbiotic relationship between sound and community is not exclusive to humans. Non-human communities also rely on sound for territorial signaling, warnings, or courtship. However, while humans have evolved specialised hearing for specific sounds, other species perceive sound differently. Vertebrates, for example, link hearing to movement, while fish and invertebrates “listen” with their entire bodies. Insects possess organs attuned to frequencies beyond human perception. ³
Our auditory specialisation has made us sensitive to certain sounds but at the cost of a limited sonic experience: many natural frequencies remain inaccessible. Over time, we have prioritised sounds vital to survival, neglecting other aspects of the soundscape. Today, as mass insect extinction — driven by intensive agriculture —erases entire repertoires of natural sounds, listening becomes not merely an act of curiosity but a way to perceive
change and preserve acoustic biodiversity. ⁴
In the heart of the Amazon rainforest, for example, the nocturnal choruses of glass frogs (Hyalinobatrachium) and the synchronised hum of Melipona bees compose a soundscape that serves as an indicator of ecological health. These sounds, however, are disappearing due to deforestation and pesticides. As bioacoustician Bernie Krause has documented, the loss of acoustic biodiversity equates to the extinction of ancestral languages. For the Māori of New Zealand, the song of cicadas (kihikihi) is not mere noise: it is the voice of ancestors speaking through the land.

Ritual: A Primordial Unifying Need

The need for ritual is primordial, deeply rooted in human nature, and pivotal to the formation and evolution of societies. Ritual, understood as choreographed, codified behavior imbued with symbolic meaning, is a universal human trait. Every known society, ancient or modern, has developed traditions marking key moments in individual and collective life. ⁵
The discovery of Göbekli Tepe, a 12,000-year-old archaeological site, revolutionised our understanding of organisled society’s origins. This site, with its monumental decorated pillars and complex structures, was not a settlement but a place of worship and ritual gathering. Its construction demanded immense collective effort, involving hundreds from disparate communities. As archaeologist Klaus Schmidt noted, “first came the temple, then the city.” ⁶
This discovery has given rise to a revolutionary thesis: it was not agriculture or economic motivations that spurred the first stable human settlements, transforming humans from nomads to sedentaries, but the need for rituals. The construction of temples and sacred spaces, like Göbekli Tepe, represented the primary engine of this transformation. In this context, sound was not merely an accompaniment to rituals but a foundational element that united communities, shaping a new collective identity and shared belonging.

Sound and Community: A Profound Bond

Rituals have profoundly shaped humans into the social beings that we are, and sound is fundamental to this process. It serves as a call, a means of transcendence, or a marker of recognition. Historically, sound has been a pillar of communal ritual — sonic acts that were not merely aesthetic but functional, synchronising people, conveying messages, and celebrating or commemorating collective events. For example, patronal festivals in Southern Italy demonstrate how sounds — from marching bands to footsteps on cobblestones — construct and renew belonging. This is not passive listening but active participation, where sound catalyses shared emotions and identities. ⁷
In contemporary societies, sound remains central to communal rituals, albeit with new dynamics. Raves, jam sessions, open-air choral singing, interactive sound installations, and silent discos represent modern forms of sonic ritual, where music fosters connection and collective experience, often countering urban alienation. In rural contexts, sound celebrates landscape and local heritage, as seen in festivals emphasising nature-culture interplay. Sound has always bridged individuals and groups, thereby forging belonging. ⁸
Digital platforms have generated unprecedented forms of sonic ritual. Spotify, for instance, does not merely suggest tracks: its algorithms create “algorithmic liturgies” based on
collective moods, aggregating millions of users into transnational communities bound by shared melancholy or euphoria. Yet these algorithms — trained on predominantly Western databases — risk homogenising sonic diversity. In India, for example, the microtonal scales of classical raga are often “flattened” to fit YouTube’s tonal standards.

Parallels Between Sound and Ritual

The characteristics of sound and ritual are deeply interconnected: both are structured, repetitive, and symbolically charged. Repetition, for instance, is key to both — Gregorian chants use melodic repetition to evoke continuity and transcendence, while rites of passage repeat gestures and words to mark transitions. ⁹
Temporality is another shared element. Ritual sounds, like church bells or shamanic drums, follow precise rhythms demarcate sacred time from profane time. Similarly, rituals unfold in defined temporal phases, such as separation, liminality, and reintegration in rites of passage. ¹⁰
Finally, sound and ritual share transformative power. Sound, through its ability to evoke emotions and create atmospheres, can transform ordinary spaces into sacred ones. Likewise, rituals transform individual moments into collective experiences, imposing order and meaning on otherwise chaotic events. ¹¹

Sound in Contemporary Communities: Tradition and Innovation

In contemporary society, sound continues to play a vital role in community-building, even in digital forms. Platforms like Spotify and TikTok enable virtual communities based on shared musical tastes. Concerts, festivals, and raves unite thousands, proving sound’s enduring role in connection.
Yet modern urban soundscapes — dominated by traffic and machinery — threaten acoustic balance and communication. Reclaiming sound as ritual becomes essential to restoring community and environmental connection. Initiatives like the World Soundscape Project highlight the need to preserve meaningful sounds as cultural heritage. ¹²

Marginalised Communities and Sonic Resistance

Marginalised groups — such as migrants, women, LGBTQIA+, etc — have often used sound as a tool for resistance and identity affirmation. For migrants, traditional songs become a way to preserve their culture and create a sense of community in a foreign context. For instance, the chants of Syrian refugees in camps are a powerful example of how music can serve as a tool for cohesion and resistance. ¹³
For women, sound has historically been a means of protest and expression. The chants of suffragettes or the songs of Kurdish women during demonstrations for women’s rights are examples of how sound can become a vehicle for resistance and social change. ¹⁴
For the LGBTQ+ community, music has been a powerful tool for expression and resistance. The disco music of the 1970s, which gave voice to the gay community, or drag music, which uses sound and performance to challenge gender norms, are examples of how sound can affirm identity and combat oppression. ¹⁵
The history of sonic resistance is incomplete without women’s voices. In Colombia’s Pacific region, Afro-descendant cantadoras preserve alabaos — funeral chants — as acts of resilience against paramilitary violence. Each melody is an acoustic map of collective memory.

The Universality of Music and Sound as a Social Phenomenon

As John Blacking noted, musicality is universal and innate in all human beings, not limited to an elite of musicians or composers. Music is not an activity reserved for a few but a fundamental human expression, present in all cultures. Through it, communities create and strengthen social bonds, express values, and transmit knowledge. For example, the songs and dances of many cultures are not merely entertainment but serve specific social functions, such as reinforcing group identity or facilitating transitions between social statuses.
Music involves movement, dance, and physical interaction, serving as an integral part of rituals and daily practices. This “embodied” approach to music has influenced subsequent studies, opening new perspectives for understanding how sound is integrated into social life.
Acoustic Ecology and the Soundscape

The concept of the “soundscape”, introduced by R. Murray Schafer, describes the acoustic environment as a dynamic system that reflects the culture, history, and identity of a community. The soundscape includes natural, human, and technological sounds. Modern noise pollution distorts traditional soundscapes, negatively impacting quality of life.
Sounds associated with specific rituals, such as church bells or shamanic drums, unite participants and reinforce a sense of belonging. Preserving meaningful sounds is essential for maintaining cultural heritage and a legacy to pass on to future generations.

Conclusion

Sound, in its ritual dimension, is one of the most powerful tools for creating bonds, preserving memories, and building shared identities. Through sound, communities — whether rural, urban, or digital — find ways to express themselves, resist, and imagine new worlds. In an era of increasing alienation and social fragmentation, rediscovering sound as a ritual practice is essential for not only strengthening social ties but also for giving voice to those often silenced. Sound, with its ability to unite, communicate, and transform, is the beating heart of rituals, which through it become shared experiences that reinforce sociality, shape collective identity, and give meaning to our existence. As a spatial and relational phenomenon, sound traverses communities, alters perceptions, and redefines the environments in which it spreads. From the acoustics of medieval cathedrals to contemporary digital and interactive soundscapes, the relationship between sound and space continues to evolve,
transforming how we inhabit the world. Recognizing this dimension means not only
understanding the past but also imagining futures where sound becomes a tool for connection, expression, and social change.

Footnotes

1. Steven Feld, Sound and Sentiment: Birds, Weeping, Poetics, and Song in Kaluli Expression (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982). ↩
2. John Blacking, How Musical Is Man? (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1973). ↩
3. R. Murray Schafer, The Tuning of the World (New York: Knopf, 1977). ↩
4. Timothy Morton, Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology after the End of the World (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013). ↩
5. Émile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (New York: Free Press, 1912). ↩
6. Klaus Schmidt, Göbekli Tepe: A Stone Age Sanctuary (Berlin: ex oriente, 2012). ↩
7. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991). ↩
8. Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960). ↩
9. Brandon LaBelle, Acoustic Territories: Sound Culture and Everyday Life (New York: Continuum, 2010) ↩
10. Jacques Attali, Noise: The Political Economy of Music (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1985). ↩
11. Ana María Ochoa Gautier, Aurality: Listening and Knowledge in Nineteenth-Century Colombia (Durham: Duke University Press, 2014). ↩
12. Bernie Krause, The Great Animal Orchestra: Finding the Origins of Music in the World’s Wild Places (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2012). ↩
13. Tejaswini Niranjana, Musicophilia: Digital Platforms and the Remaking of Indian Classical Music (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2020). ↩
14. Linda Tuhiwai Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples (London: Zed Books, 1999) ↩
15. Ana María Ochoa Gautier, Aurality: Listening and Knowledge in Nineteenth-Century Colombia (Durham: Duke University Press, 2014), 134. ↩