The reactions to this week’s debate in Pennsylvania between Lt. Gov. John Fetterman and Mehmet Oz fell largely along two lines: Many on the right emphasized the fact that Fetterman has not yet fully recovered from a stroke, while many on the left emphasized Oz’s comments about empowering “local political leaders” to help dictate reproductive rights.

Both points are accurate and important, but there was an unrelated exchange that stood out for me. As The New York Times reported, the Republican nominee “appeared less comfortable” in response to questions about his controversial daytime television program.

“The show did very well because it provided high-quality information that empowered people,” Dr. Oz said. When the moderator followed up to ask about his own profits, Dr. Oz did not answer directly, saying advertisers were entitled to run commercials during his show. “I never sold weight-loss products as described in those commercials,” he declared. “It’s a television show like this is a television show.”

The fact that the first-time candidate characterized a Senate debate as “a television show” was weird, and the fact that Oz insisted that he never sold the products featured in commercials was worse, since that wasn’t what he was asked.

But I found myself stuck on the idea that Oz believes his syndicated program, which made him a multi-millionaire, “did very well because it provided high-quality information that empowered people.”

There’s ample evidence to the contrary.

To be sure, Oz’s role as a celebrity physician has made him a household name across much of the country, and by any fair measure, he almost certainly wouldn’t be a competitive Senate candidate — in a state where he lacks any real background — were it not for his status as a television personality.

But the idea that he peddled “high-quality information” to his viewers is belied by his record. Circling back to our earlier coverage, it was late last year when The New York Times reported that Oz has a history of “dispensing dubious medical advice” and making “sweeping claims based on thin evidence.” The article referenced controversial comments the Republican has made about everything from weight-loss pills to apple juice to cellphones.

A group of doctors even sought his firing from Columbia University’s medical faculty in 2015, arguing that he’d “repeatedly shown disdain for science and for evidence-based medicine.”

The Washington Post had a related report earlier this month, adding that during his show’s 12-year run, Oz “provided a platform for potentially dangerous products and fringe viewpoints, aimed at millions of viewers, according to medical experts, public health organizations and federal health guidance.”

For his part, the doctor-turned-host-turned-candidate has questioned his critics’ motives and denied any wrongdoing. As for his suspect medical claims, Oz acknowledged his use of “colorful language” during a Senate hearing in 2014 in which the Republican faced bipartisan criticism.

I’ve long believed that, at least in theory, this is where the Senate race in Pennsylvania effectively begins and ends. Oz is generally known to the public for exactly one thing: hosting a television show. That one thing has made Oz look like a quack, promoting dubious miracle cures, and drawing the ire of more credible medical authorities.

How does one parlay such a background into a Senate candidacy?

This week’s debate served as a timely reminder: Oz has had many years to come up with a defense for his record as a promoter of snake oil. He doesn’t appear to have used that time wisely.