Habitual Capitulation

Cannibalism.

Religion.

War.

These three things are often intrinsically linked in more ways than one. Religion and war often dominate the headlines with negative actions taken out in the world, with often severe consequences. War and cannibalism often invoke fears horror, disgust and morbid fascination. Religion and cannibalism don't get on well either.

Human history is littered with examples of all of these. Exploring the new world in the 16 and 17th century was a time where all three of these came together more often than not. Reports of cannibalism in small, newly discovered tribes, leading to religious persecution and war. It often didn’t end well for the tribes, cannibalism or not.

But what have these got to do with Keyboards I hear you ask? Well, more than you might think. While war, religion, and cannibalism often drive the narrative of human history, these grand ritualistic practices also echo in smaller, everyday habits - such as the seemingly mundane hobby of building custom keyboards.

Back in 2012 or so when I was barely on the fringes of the hobby and looking for a more centred typing experience, I recall trying to put my finger on what it was that I was looking for. I’m still not quite sure I’ve found it. What I’m more sure of is that I think I know what drives it. Back in the 16th and 17th centuries the drive was the economy. The world markets were emerging, and trade was becoming a worldwide endeavour. At the same time new discoveries were driving the promise of wealth and land and driving the worlds expansion. Combine this with the industrial revolution and small tribes of natives were seen as a problem to overcome. Cannibalism turned out to be the answer.

That’s not to say it was right or wrong, or even true or false. But it was a way to justify actions taken in the name of king, queen or country to increase that wealth. And what way to drive it home to the newspapers of the time? Tell the tale of the ritual  behind it. The giant pot in the jungle over the fire, the Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman all there. It’s become such a trope that it’s the leading joke in films, newspaper cartoons and more.

And this documenting of ritual to portray things in a negative way wasn’t reserved to just this. Far from it. It’s been an excellent tactic for the prevailing side as long as human history. Religious wars have been won and lost on the strength of belief in a ritual or series of them. It’s so ingrained in our culture that we often don’t even notice them today in the modern world. Breakfast in the morning, lunch just after noon, dinner in the evening. Morning or evening showers. The daily commute. The order you dress in a morning. The way you brush your teeth… In both the darkest corners of human history and the most peaceful of hobbies, rituals provide structure and meaning. Whether it's a tribal ritual involving cannibalism or the careful tuning of those damned spacebar stabilisers, these acts give shape to the worlds we inhabit.

Ritual is all around us, and it’s something that drives us, inspires us, and makes our lives easier.

Dragging this back to keyboards though, why does it impact us here? Well, we are drawn to ritual. Especially where tools are used (which is a whole ‘nother article in and of itself) and abused. Just like Religious rituals we create habits in our workflow to help us feel more comfortable; to be more productive and to help us enjoy the tasks we are doing. We habitually want to capitulate into abiding by these rituals we make for ourselves. It could be making espresso, creating art, or for a lot of us (especially those reading this) building and tuning keyboards.

In many ways, our hobbies are a playground for these rituals. Whether it’s collecting records, organizing bookshelves, or tuning mechanical keyboards, the act itself becomes a meditative process. The steps we take, like testing switches, perfecting layouts, selecting keycaps and so on, aren’t just tasks, but personal rituals that transform a simple tool into something deeply satisfying. These routines offer a rhythm, a predictable pattern that makes the experience richer. We don’t just type on keyboards; we connect with them through the rituals we build around them. Rituals, whether spiritual or mundane, satisfy a deep psychological need for stability and control. They help us process the world around us, giving us something familiar and predictable to hold onto. In hobbies, these rituals become a source of comfort, a way to impose a sense of mastery and craftsmanship over our tools

Perhaps it’s why we’re drawn to this so strongly. It’s not just about the final product, but the process - the ritual - that gets us there. There’s something inherently satisfying about the feeling of bringing order and perfection to even the smallest aspects of life. When we engage in these rituals, we find a momentary escape, a sense of mastery over our environment.

The beauty of it is that these rituals are uniquely personal. What feels sacred to one person might seem trivial to another, but that’s the point: they are tailored to our own needs, our own desires. Maybe it’s why some of us spend hours on forums debating the perfect keycap profile, or why others meticulously solder switches in search of the perfect keystroke. Each of these acts, however small, reflects our human tendency to find meaning in patterns and structure, to create order out of chaos.

In the end, exploring and creating rituals, whether in our hobbies or in everyday life, allows us to feel more connected to the things we love. We might not always understand why we’re drawn to these practices, but we don’t really need to. Like so many rituals, their power lies not in their explanation, but in their performance.

So, when you are next building a keyboard, maybe consider also how you make your coffee, or how you’d set up that giant cooking pot in the jungle.