Everyone knew this harebrained notion would never draw the two-thirds majority required for a constitutional amendment. Yet here were all these conservatives lining up to speak for it, wasting day after day with their meandering remarks about culture, while more important business went unattended. What explains this folly?

Not simple bigotry, as some pundits declared. Or even simple politics. While it is true the amendment was a classic election-year ploy, it owes its power as much to a peculiar narrative of class hostility as it does to homophobia or ideology. And in this narrative, success comes by losing.

For more than three decades, the Republican Party has relied on the "culture war" to rescue its chances every four years, from Richard Nixon's campaign against the liberal news media to George H.W. Bush's campaign against the liberal flag-burners.

In this war, the real divide is between "regular people" and an endlessly scheming

"liberal elite." The strategy allows Republicans to depict themselves as friends of the common people, even as they gut workplace safety rules and lay plans to turn Social Security over to Wall Street. Most important, it has allowed Republicans to speak the language of populism.

The amendment may have failed as law, but as pseudopopulist theater, it was a masterpiece. Each important element of the culture-war narrative was there.

Consider first its choice of targets: While the Senate's culture warriors denied feeling any hostility to gay people, they made no secret of their disgust with liberal judges — a tiny, arrogant group that believes it knows best in all things and harbors an unfathomable determination to run down American culture, and thus made this measure necessary.

Sam Brownback, senator from my home state, Kansas, may have put it best: "Most Americans believe homosexuals have a right to live as they choose. They do not believe a small group of activists or a tiny judicial elite have a right to redefine marriage and impose a radical social experiment on our entire society."

What's more, according to the outraged senators, these liberal judges were acting according to a plan. Maybe no one used the term "conspiracy," but Brownback asserted that the Massachusetts judges who allowed gay marriages to proceed there were merely mouthing a "predetermined outcome"; Orrin Hatch

of Utah asserted that "these were not a bunch of random, coincidental legal events"; and Jim Bunning of Kentucky warned how "the liberals, who have no respect for the law," had "plotted out a state-by-state strategy" that they were now carrying out one domino at a time.

Our age-old folkways, in other words, are today under siege from a cabal of know-it-all elites. The common people are being trampled by the intellectuals. This is precisely the same formula that was used, to great effect, in the nasty spat over evolution that Kansans endured in 1999, in which the elitists said to be forcing their views on the unassuming world were biology professors and those scheming paleontologists.

As do the partisans of each of these other culture-causes, the proponents of the marriage amendment made soaring, grandiose claims for the significance of the issue they were debating.

While editorialists across the nation tut-tutted and reminded the senators that they had important work they ought to be doing, the senators fired back that in fact they were debating that most important of all possible subjects.

Rick Santorum of Pennsylvania, who took particular offense at the charges of insignificance, argued that this was a debate about nothing less than "the glue that holds the basic foundational societal unit together." Wake up, America!

Of course, as everyone pointed out, the whole enterprise was doomed to failure from the start. It didn't have to be that way; conservatives could have chosen any number of more promising avenues to challenge or limit the Massachusetts ruling. Instead they went with a constitutional amendment, the one method where failure was absolutely guaranteed — along with front-page coverage.

Then again, what culture-war offensive isn't doomed to failure from the start? Indeed, the inevitability of defeat seems to be a critical element of the melodrama, on issues from school prayer to evolution and even abortion.

Failure on the cultural front serves to magnify the outrage felt by conservative true believers; it mobilizes the base. Failure sharpens the distinctions between conservatives and liberals.

Failure allows for endless grandstanding without any real consequences that might upset more moderate Republicans or the party's all-important corporate wing. You might even say that grand and garish defeat — especially if accompanied by ridicule of the sophisticated — is the culture warrior's object.

The issue is all-important; the issue is incapable of being won: Only when the battle is defined this way can it achieve its magical polarizing effect.

Only with a proposed constitutional amendment could the legalistic, caviling Democrats be counted on to vote "no," and only with an offensive so blunt and so sweeping could the universal hostility of the press be secured.