Before today’s second prime-time Republican primary debate, businessman turned reality TV star turned presidential candidate Donald Trump continues to lead the rest of the GOP field by a wide margin in almost every poll.

Much ink has been spilled to explain Trump’s astonishing rise. Danielle Allen in The Washington Post attributed his ascent to “a solidly right-wing ethno-nationalist voting bloc.” Others say his success stems from an ideological gap between conservative elites and their constituency or from the growing perception that the country is on the wrong track. According to The Economist, some of Trump’s supporters see his boorish behavior as “a sign of authenticity.”

True, there are many lenses through which one can analyze Trump’s success in the polls. But the least analyzed aspect of his foray into politics is one that has taken shape over a much longer time frame: the vanishing distinction between politics and entertainment.

Political life has long borrowed from the theater. Trump’s latest bid is the apotheosis of what historian Daniel Boorstin called “pseudo-events” in his 1961 seminal book, “The Image.” Boorstin described a pseudo-event as an occurrence that is manufactured mainly to generate media coverage, whose “relation to the underlying reality of the situation is ambiguous” and whose “interest arises largely from this very ambiguity.”

Trump’s candidacy is a farcical made-for-television event. His previous political false starts lent an ambiguity to his intentions this cycle that generated enormous media coverage even before he formally announced his candidacy. This was followed by yet another speculative cycle about his possible bid as a third-party candidate.

“Donald Trump is summer’s biggest TV hit, and ratings gold for cable news,” read a recent headline in The Los Angeles Times, synopsizing his appeal. The story described CNN’s giddiness over landing the second Republican prime-time debate, which — with Trump as the headliner — will command steep ad rates. “He’s the Simon Cowell of politics,” Jeff Gaspin, a former NBC executive, said of the real estate mogul’s brand, referring to the former “American Idol” judge. “Why was ‘American Idol’ so successful? Because Simon said, ‘That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard’ and made 16-year-olds cry…Trump has got that unfiltered honesty.”

That might be true. But unlike Cowell, whose success has always been tied to entertainment, Trump is importing entertainment wholesale into electoral politics. His greatest insight was that style trumps substance, especially in the early stages of primary season. (At the Iowa State Fair last month, a typical attendee waited in huge crowds to see Trump “because he’s a celebrity,” and numerous supporters have pointed to his blunt rhetoric as his core appeal.) In an August poll that asked his supporters what they most liked about him, only 14 percent cited his policies.

Trump avoids any discussion of policy specifics, and he openly mocks rivals for their perceived wonkiness, implying that a presidential campaign’s worst sin is not a paucity of ideas but having the audacity to take them seriously. This was evidenced by his recent self-parodying appearance on “The Tonight Show” with comedian Jimmy Fallon, in which Trump jocularly summed up his job creation plan as “I’m just gonna do it” and, when asked for clarification on his economic policy, added, “Look, I’m really rich.”