It was obviously something that was premeditated and took considerable time to set up. It was brutal, a blow that should have sent its opponent reeling. It was done in the dead of night, apparently because that’s how much thought was given to what it would look like. And in the end, according to just about everyone, it was a profound mistake.

In short, the most mind-boggling thing of all about the Amazon – Macmillan smack down is that Amazon thought it would get away with it. Here’s how one of yesterday’s smarter commentators, John Scalzi, put it in a commentary at Whatever:

Leaving aside the moral, philosophical, cultural and financial implications of this weekend’s Amazon/Macmillan slapfight and What It All Means for book readers and the future of the publishing industry, in one very real sense the whole thing was an exercise in public communications, a process by which two very large companies made a case for themselves in the public arena. And in this respect, we can say this much without qualification: oh, sweet Jesus, did Amazon ever hump the bunk.

Of course, we’re not quite sure what “hump the bunk” means, but we suspect it’s something similar to what Kit Eaton says in her insightful commentary at Fast Company:

There’s one clear conclusion falling out of the ridiculous Amazon versus Macmillan books debacle that played out this weekend: Amazon really doesn’t care about you, in fact it kinda hates you–pretty much whoever you are.

… Cut-throat business politics played out in public, and swiftly concluded? Yes. But reading into the matter, it’s clear that Amazon really cares nothing about the publishing industry, about authors, about the book-buying public and about any other book seller it knocks out of business.

Like many, Easton particularly ridiculed Amazon’s letter explaining its “capitulation”:

… when Amazon reversed its decision, it announced the news with a blog posting from anonymous Amazon spokespersons that contains some extremely twisty language. Firstly it paints itself as the victim, having to “capitulate” to demands that it clearly wishes the public to think of as unreasonable. Then it explains that it has to capitulate because Macmillan has a monopoly over its titles. Finally it suggests that Macmillan’s prices are unreasonably high for e-books, and it believes other publishers will think differently to Macmillan. Hmmm. A “monopoly over their own titles” is the absolute key phrase here, because it’s plain dumb. It’s like complaining that Van Gogh has a monopoly over paintings painted by Van Gogh.

But did Amazon actually “capitulate”? An exhaustive report by Michael Cader at Publishers Marketplace yesterday astutely noted that, er, Macmillan’s buy buttons aren’t actually back up yet:

Note carefully that Amazon has not “capitulated” yet. They only said they would do so “ultimately.” Does that really mean “in early March” when Macmillan’s new terms become effective, or slightly thereafter when the iPad launches–or sometime far sooner?

Meanwhile the industry seems energized by finally having a way to show its opposition to the behemoth from Seattle. In a Publishers Weekly story, Rachel Deahl reports that “agents watched on the sidelines, many internally cheering the move made by the smallest of the ‘big six’ houses,” i.e. Macmillan. She talks to some of the biggies, who seem actually excited in their support of Macmillan (Ryan Fischer-Harbage says he is “thrilled” and “glad to see that the dog is back to wagging its own tail”). She also notes that the Association of Authors’ Representatives issued a statement saying, in part …

We have never believed that a model that incurs a per unit loss on every sale, and sets an unrealistically low price on the most popular bestselling books, can possibly be in the best long-term interests of our clients or the publishing industry. Therefore we applaud Macmillan’s stance on e-book terms, and Amazon’s stated intention to work within Macmillan’s model. We hope and assume other publishers will soon follow suit.

The AAR statement also condemned Amazon for its tactics, saying “it is clear that having access to our authors” work used as a weapon in negotiation is an unacceptable turn of events that we roundly condemn.

But from the start, and despite trying to hide what they were doing in the midnight hour, Amazon is not known for giving a damn about public opinion of its actions, apologies or should we say disseminations — for removing sales ranks from GLBT titles and for sneaking into Kindles to steal back purchased Orwells — aside. (See the earlier MobyLives report on Clay Shirkey’s commentary on both incidents.)

So what really prompted them to go public with their protection racket act? Many insiders (such Michael Cader in this post) say other major publishers from the Big Six “do in fact have plans for pursuing ‘the same route'” — a move that would have been devastating for Amazon, putting them in the position of having to pull, basically, most of their books.

Others say the company simply “read the writing on the wall.” Late yesterday, they also could read the writing on the NASDAQ board, where, as this Reuters wire story reports, “Amazon shares fell as much as 9 percent before closing down 5.21 percent, and then falling to $115.98 after hours.” A Barron’s report from earlier in the day noted that “the new scenario clearly has the Street worried about what it means for Kindle sales.”

It was, in short, a scheme that seems deranged if it didn’t work, but that was nonetheless business as usual for Amazon. Except this time, it wasn’t business as usual on the industry’s side — someone stood up to them, and the industry unified behind that someone. And for once, business as usual at Amazon didn’t work.

All of which leaves two fundamental questions: Will the vast sea of ill-will Amazon has fostered in the book industry prompt continued defiance? And will the company that has debt growing far faster than its sales, and that now has the Street paying attention with a furrowed brow, hit the wall?