As the GOP cobbled together this Frankensteinian "tax reform" package riddled with whatever provisions, tax-related or otherwise, were deemed necessary to maximize its chances of surviving a floor vote, a strange thing happened that made its passage such a surprisingly difficult task: Republicans realized that nobody liked it. Well, rich people liked it, sure. But among the voters who elect their representatives to Washington every two years, it was—it is—one of the least popular pieces of legislation in recent memory. These tax cuts, by one measure, are more unpopular than many previous tax hikes. Less than a year after taking control of the House, the Senate, and the White House, the party now finds itself championing something that most of its constituents don't event want.

Why keep at it, then?

The answer, at least in part, is because they don't know what else to do. Republican politicians have gotten to where they are today by doggedly peddling trickle-down pseudoeconomics and bemoaning the unseen evils of exorbitant corporate tax rates at every stage of their careers. Spiritually, their party started planning this round of cuts at the moment President Bush signed the last one into law. Cutting taxes is what Republicans do. It's a major reason why each one of them went into politics. It's why they've gritted their teeth and tolerated everything that comes along with supporting President Donald Trump, and it's why they refuse to abandon him even when things like this are happening. Whenever and wherever the party comes into power, it's a safe bet that the bold-font item atop their legislative agenda will be dialing back the wanton excesses of the previous administration posthaste.

It is not just an ideological endeavor, though, or one that arose out of sheer force of habit. Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell are also desperate to get this done before 2018 because cutting taxes has become a non-negotiable aspect of the Republican Party's business model: Promise to do it if elected, because the government, you'll explain, should stay out of Americans' pocketbooks; enjoy financial and in-kind support from wealthy people who would disproportionally benefit from such policies; deliver on your end of the deal after you win; and then, when the next election rolls around, rinse and repeat. Republican legislators admitted as much in the days leading up to the vote. "Financial contributions will stop" unless the bill passes, Lindsey Graham predicted to NBC News. "My donors are basically saying, 'Get it done or don't ever call me again,'" New York congressman Chris Collins explained to The Hill. Some of them might be moved by deeply-held philosophical convictions, but all of them are motivated by self-preservation. Cutting taxes is how Republicans stay in power, so they did it, public opinion be damned.

How does this end?

Politics is cyclical. As long as Democrats occasionally get elected to public office and choose to raise taxes, perhaps Republicans will have something they can cut down to size once the pendulum swings back to the right. But politics also responds to fundamental shifts in the way the world works, and we no longer operate in the same 9-to-5, 40-hour-work-week, retire-at-65 reality in which the GOP crafted its modern platform. The economy's defining feature is an unprecedented level of inequality that is only getting worse. Building roads and providing healthcare and educating children and doing all the other things vital to running a nation of hundreds of millions are complex, expensive tasks. While tax reform survived, deafening public opposition to Trumpcare—a series of one-percenter tax cuts disguised as a "health care reform" effort—already doomed multiple attempts to pass it. Americans are getting wiser to policies that are pitched to them as beneficial for everyone, but that really just shift responsibility for paying the bills away from those who can afford to do it.

The unified Republican government's mighty struggles to legislate on its core issues highlight the widening chasm between the interests of GOP politicians, and the interests of the voters who keep those politicians employed. It's beginning to feel like an inflection point is coming, when the promise of wealthy donors' generosity will no longer be lucrative enough to make delivering another round of quid pro quo tax cuts a sound electoral strategy—and when fighting a culture war, by itself, won't be enough to get candidates over the hump, either. If the Republican Party's formula for success indeed runs up against realpolitik limits, it will have to grapple with tough questions about how to reconcile its philosophical roots with a political landscape that has left it behind. We're not there yet, of course. But that moment might arrive sooner than the party thinks.