STANDING in the marbled lobby of one his Manhattan skyscrapers, Donald Trump, a real-estate magnate and television personality, announced his candidacy for the Republican presidential nomination last month by traducing Mexican immigrants in carelessly general terms. They are "bringing drugs, bringing crime, they’re rapists," he said in a blasé tone of imperious certitude well-known to viewers of "The Apprentice", Mr Trump's recently cancelled reality show. Americans of Hispanic descent, who now make up over 17% of the population, were incensed. Macy's, Univision and NBC, among others, were swift to sever business ties with Mr Trump. Piñatas of the improbably coiffed Mr Trump are now available to those keen to whack "the Donald" with a stick. Meanwhile, more credible Republican presidential contenders, whose West Wing dreams hang on refurbishing their party's reputation with Latino voters, find themselves unhappily distancing themselves from Mr Trump's poisonous message.

Mr Trump's comments are "offensive and inaccurate" as well as "divisive," according to Marco Rubio, a senator from Florida. Jeb Bush, a former Florida governor who currently leads the Republican pack, called Mr Trump's comments "extraordinarily ugly". He also said that they are "not reflective of the Republican Party".

But then why has the imbroglio helped rather than harmed Mr Trump's poll numbers, launching him to second place nationally, as well as in Iowa and New Hampshire, crucial early primary states? Why is Mr Trump in fact doubling down on his inflammatory statements, adding speciously that Mexican immigrants are a source of "tremendous infectious disease"? According to Mr Bush, Mr Trump is "doing this to inflame and incite and to draw attention, which seems to be the organising principle of his campaign”. And it seems to be working—for now.

Because America's electoral system all but guarantees the irrelevance of small parties, there's no point to an American version of the Green Party or, for that matter, of UKIP or the National Front, which would absorb the country's most rabidly anti-immigration white voters. The Republican Party is therefore a very big tent, covering tolerantly wealthy Chamber of Commerce types and upbeat religious conservatives, as well as working- and middle-class whites anxious about their dwindling majority and declining status in an increasingly multicultural America. When it was possible for Republicans to win national elections with only a smattering of support from non-white voters, the occasional venting of xenophobic paranoia about the criminality and infectiousness of immigrants might have helped as much as it hurt. But those days appear to be gone for good. If a Republican is to win the White House in 2016, he or she really must put a serious dent in the Democrats' advantage with black, Hispanic and Asian voters—which poses a serious problem for the GOP. They've got to somehow pack both non-whites and bigots, immigrants and xenophobes, into the same big tent. Mr Trump is now exploiting this tension to his advantage.

A viably inclusive Republican presidential campaign will have to mute the coded and not-so-coded messages of white cultural superiority that have turned Americans of colour into reliable Democrats. But many conservative whites are still twitchy about their waning dominance. And they still matter in Republican politics, and have the power to decide primaries in many states. Perhaps the wariness of their party's leading lights to cater to them as conspicuously as they once did leaves them feeling jilted. And that spells opportunity for an enterprising Republican candidate who is willing to damage the GOP's brand, and his own, among Hispanics in order to steal some spotlight and, possibly, an early primary. Presidential politics is the ultimate reality show and, like it or not, Mr Trump knows how to play.

A famous billionaire may seem an unlikely populist champion, but Donald Trump is brilliantly suited to the role. The gaudy Mr Trump has always been a poor-man's idea of a rich man, cunningly embodying America's by-the-bootstraps cult of can-do capitalist success. Mr Trump has spent decades assiduously cultivating a public image as an unabashedly prosperous, fearlessly candid, hard-nosed negotiator. He is to millions of Americans more a figure of admiration than ridicule. For conservative whites who also feel that their relative position is slipping in an increasingly multicultural nation, such an unflappably indomitable fighter and audaciously authoritative voice makes a most welcome standard bearer.

Although Mr Trump's divisive primary strategy, and seemingly inevitable presence on the GOP primary debate stage, is a headache to his more inclusive Republican rivals, it also presents them with an opportunity to prove their political chops and run away from the pack. If a candidate emerges from the Republican field who can manage to win over Hispanics by persuasively denouncing the Donald, all the while maintaining the loyalty of conservative xenophobes, he or she is a unique, high-wire-walking coalition-building talent who deserves to, and very well might, win it all.