Human beings are wired for social connection and community. Psychologically, we’re desperate for it. It’s why solitary confinement in the justice system is considered to be inhumane and, in many cases, labeled as “torture.” The widespread isolative effects of the Covid-19 pandemic similarly highlighted the drawbacks of the loss of community and connection while we were stuck in our homes baking bread, consuming far too much digital content, or participating in seemingly endless streams of Zooms and video conferences.
As the world began to open back up, many choir directors approached our craft—that of communal music-making—with even more criticality and purpose. Repeatedly coming together and singing whilst in community, even infrequently, was reaffirmed as a way not only to survive, but thrive.
However, as any organizational leader knows, when you bring a collective of diverse individuals, experiences, and paradigms together into a group, there is inevitable social conflict that follows, regardless of member age. Sociological studies show that human beings often naturally assimilate into myriad “in-groups” and “out-groups.” We habitually congregate with those whose personalities or interests align, while avoiding others who may be too different or have personalities we consider “problematic” or “clashing.”
Leading a group through these interpersonal conflicts can be inexorably challenging, particularly when coalescing a community around a primary goal of making music. Many choir directors opt to combat this challenge by imposing rules or restrictions on their ensemble to prevent conflict or disagreement and maintain the peace, focusing solely on the music-making and leaving any other personal troubles “at the door.”
But how do we, as directors, know when we have over-corrected in our imposition of rules, structure, or control? How do we ensure our ensemble remains a healthy community for our singers and does not become a control-dominated hierarchy, in which we, as directors, hold the reins a bit too tight? How do we continue as a choir and not accidentally become a cult?
I know it may seem far-fetched, maybe even laughable, to consider the notion of a choir accidentally becoming a “cult.” When we see the word “cult” in our professional lives, it tends to be in the context of something like “The Cult of Robert Shaw,” speaking more so to an adherence to Shaw’s methodologies or praxis rather than some sort of fanatical obsession. The word may also bring to mind scandalous shadow organizations like NXIVM or the Twin Flames Universe we’ve seen covered in recent documentaries, where cult leaders engage in heinous acts like branding their members or controlling the minutiae of their romantic lives.
This isn’t that. I’m not suggesting there is a choir director out there, secretly branding their members with their choir’s professional logo, or blocking the formation of a romantic relationship (e.g. “you can’t date Brad, you’re already happily married to Brahms, Susie. What would Johannes think?”). When I refer to “cult” here, I mean a toxically controlling group or ensemble, one that can surprisingly share characteristics with these more ominous organizations.
Dr. Steven Hassan is a mental health professional who specializes in cults—particularly the tactics used by cults and authoritarian regimes to control people. His BITE Model of Authoritarian Control breaks these tactics down into 4 main categories: Behavioral, Informational, Thought, and Emotional Control (BITE).
In the full model, Hassan outlines both overtly sinister and surprisingly subtle behaviors that are commonly used to maintain power. There’s no magic number of these that suddenly makes an organization a “cult,” and I’m purposefully setting aside the most extreme examples that (hopefully) don’t apply to any of us. Instead, I want to focus on the quieter patterns, the ones that can creep into our ensembles unintentionally.
A toxic leader or group may attempt to control behavior, by discouraging individualism and encouraging groupthink, imposing rigid rules without flexibility, or relying heavily on rewards and punishments to shape behavior. Informationally, control might look like withholding information, distorting facts to make decisions seem more palatable, or compartmentalizing knowledge so only certain people are allowed access. In more extreme cases, members may even be encouraged to report on one another to the leader of the group.
On a thought level, control can show up as forbidding critical questions about leadership or policy, encouraging only “good and proper” thoughts, discouraging constructive criticism, or framing dissent as disloyalty. Black-and-white thinking or “us vs. them” can begin to take root.
Emotionally, control may look like making members feel that problems are always their own fault (never the leader or the group’s fault), instilling a fear of leaving, or the fear of being shunned by the group for leaving, especially by influencing members to distrust critics or former members. There may also be subtle shaming of those who feel frustrated, disappointed, or different from the group at large.
Now, some nuance is necessary. In a choral context, structure is not inherently toxic. Clear expectations matter. Deadlines matter. Auditions matter. Accountability matters. Even rewards and consequences can be healthy tools. A strong ensemble identity can be profoundly meaningful. The question isn’t whether your ensemble has structure—it’s whether or not your structure creates member belonging or member compliance.
So, rather than provide a list of “never do ___,” here are a few practices that can help ensure your ensemble remains a healthy, empowered community, where your singers feel supported and led rather than unimportant and controlled.
It can be hard to hear criticism or perspectives that don’t align with your vision. But if singers feel there is no safe space to express concerns, those concerns don’t disappear; they just go underground. Create structured opportunities for feedback...and actually listen to it. Make it clear to your singers that respectful disagreement is not disloyalty, it’s investment.
There will always be moments that require confidentiality. But in most cases, sharing the “why” behind decisions builds trust. When members understand the reason a choice is made, even if they disagree, they are far more likely to feel respected. Visibility is rarely a bad thing.
Choral singing requires surrendering some individualism for the sake of blend and/or cohesion. It’s part of the magic. But singers are more than their voice parts, they’re full human beings. Celebrate who they are outside the rehearsal space. Make room for individuality to strengthen the collective rather than threaten it.
If a singer seems frustrated or disengaged, talk to them. It can be tempting to “check in” through others to avoid awkwardness or conflict. However, indirect communication can quickly erode trust. Addressing concerns directly with the singer, rather than gleaning information through back channels, provides them with the respect they deserve.
In my own K-12 programs, I often told students that this was “our” choir, not “my” choir. I involved singers—even the newest ones—in as many decisions as I could, so they felt a communal sense of group ownership. While there were moments when I had to make the final call as a director, sharing leadership with my singers helped to build community—even if it meant checking my ego at the door.
It’s not easy to retain singers, especially when singers are there on a volunteer basis and not paid or required to be there. But no one should feel trapped. When former members are spoken about negatively, shunned, or treated as defectors, current members notice. Try to maintain an “open-door” culture, where people are free to step away from the ensemble without shame. This not only allows for former singers to return, but it simultaneously strengthens trust among those singers who choose to stay.
At the end of the day, choirs are built on vulnerability. Singing asks people to use their breath, their bodies, and often their emotions in front of others. That level of openness requires trust, and trust cannot coexist with fear. Most choir directors are not cult leaders. We’re musicians who care deeply about creating beauty and facilitating human connection. However, care and control are not the same thing. It’s possible to be structured without being rigid, to lead without dominating. It’s possible to cultivate excellence without demanding unquestioning loyalty.
A healthy choir doesn’t silence dissent or shame departure. It invites belonging. By remaining reflective about our own leadership, asking ourselves not only “Is the music excellent?” but also “Are my singers safe, respected, and free?”, we can ensure that our ensembles remain what they are meant to be: nourishing communities that sustain our singers. Choirs rooted in belonging, not cults rooted in control.
Which of the above control elements have you seen or experienced personally? How do you maintain a healthy, non-toxic choral environment? Have you ever encountered the BITE Model of Authoritarian Control before? Share your experiences in the comments below!