The tea party is over.

Yesterday, Gallup released a poll showing only 17 percent of Americans support the tea party, a record low. Even among conservative Republicans, two-thirds of whom used to back the tea party, support has dropped by more than 20 points.

Yet today the Republican Party is as troubled as ever: overrun by political neophytes and controlled by an ungovernable minority that is, unsurprisingly, unable to govern.

The collapse of support for the tea party in the midst of all this makes clear two things. First, the tea party was never as novel as it appeared, comprised mostly of rebranded movement conservatives. And second, commentators have for too long used the "tea party" label to categorize rather than explain one of the most important developments in the conservative movement since the election of Ronald Reagan.

In the season of Trump, it's understandable why analysts would look for the roots of Republican ruin in the tea party's television-ready, office-unready candidates. "The GOP's dysfunction all started with Sarah Palin," read the headline for an op-ed by former Obama chief of staff William Daley. Daley offered the standard genealogy of Republican devolution: Palin begat the tea party, which begat Christine O'Donnell, who begat Herman Cain, who begat Donald Trump. But this is too narrow a history, one that misses the structural changes that allowed these candidates to rise. For the roots of contemporary GOP dysfunction, we have to look to the 1990s.

Two major developments in the 1990s created the dynamics now remaking the Republican Party. First, the party governed largely from Congress, led by an agenda-driven speaker backed by an unusually conservative caucus. Newt Gingrich's Contract with America, containing only issues that had at least 60 percent public support, gave the Republican revolutionaries a working platform – one that ultimately didn't work. Each agenda item that passed the House died in the Senate, was vetoed by President Bill Clinton or was ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court.

That subversion of the contract had profound effects. Unable to enact their agenda, Republican representatives mastered the art of obstruction instead. They shut down the government, launched endless investigations and impeached the president. And they were rewarded with the White House and several chances to run Congress. No wonder they returned to those tactics when President Barack Obama entered office.

The other major development of the 1990s was that conservative media climbed into the party's driver's seat. In 1988, Rush Limbaugh's radio show went national. By 1992, he was considered so critical to conservative support that George H.W. Bush, in a desperate bid to shore up his base, invited Limbaugh to spend the night in the Lincoln Bedroom. Two years later, when Gingrich and co. swept into office, they made Limbaugh an honorary member of their caucus. And two years after that, Fox News went on air.

Republican victories in the 2000s taught the right to double-down on these trends. Limbaugh, Fox and a handful of right-wing magazines morphed into a sprawling conservative media complex. Congressional Republicans, having grown a bit complacent during George W. Bush's presidency, returned to the opposition in an obstructionist mood, one deeply informed by the 1990s. Their goal? Obstruct, investigate, impeach. And never, ever back down.

Of course, over the past six years in the opposition, congressional Republicans have had to back down a lot. Creating one no-win situation after another, the party's leadership repeatedly blinked at the brink. Government shutdowns, fiscal cliffs and debt ceiling fights all ended the same way the showdowns of the 1990s did: victory for the president, defeat for the Congress and an enormous mess for the American people.