Newt Gingrich and Marvin Kalb deserve our thanks for their attempt to clear the air for meaningful political debate in next year’s presidential election (“Debates that may actually matter,” BDN, August 27). Their proposal for a series of nine 90-minute, one-on-one dialogues between next year’s nominees would raise the level of politics in America to a degree that has been lost over several decades.

Their example, almost always cited but never followed, is the Lincoln-Douglas debates in Illinois in 1858. But a closer look at those debates will reveal that Messrs. Gingrich and Kalb face an uphill battle not only against candidate timidity but against the political culture of 21st century America.

Today, everyone knows who Abraham Lincoln was, but few know much about Stephen Douglas other than that he was Lincoln’s opponent. In 1858 it was the reverse. Few people outside of Illinois had ever heard of Lincoln, while the political junkies of the 1850s all knew about Douglas, a barrel-chested, tub-thumping orator whom many expected to be the next president.

Remember, too that the contest in 1858 was for the United States Senate, not the presidency. Yet such was the political culture of the day that thousands of Illinoisians traveled by horseback, in carriages, and by railroad to hear Stephen Douglas take on a little-known lawyer who had not won an election in more than 12 years.

Messrs. Gingrich and Kalb propose a format of 90 minutes. Lincoln and Douglas went at it for three hours. One candidate would open up for an hour, with the second rebutting for an hour and a half, and the first returning for half an hour. In the next debate the places would be reversed. There were no microphones and no teleprompters.

With all due respect to Sen. Collins and Rep. Allen, would anyone in either camp seriously propose such a format for Maine’s senatorial contest next year? And would anyone turn out if they did?

The fact is that politics a century and a half ago were followed with as much intensity as professional sports are followed today. The doings of candidates, not just for the presidency but for public office in general, provided grist for the journalistic mills of the 19th century, just as the doings of a Tom Brady or a Jeff Gordon or an Alex Rodriguez do now.

Accordingly, in the days of Lincoln and Douglas, participation in both state and national elections reached unprecedented heights. More than 80 percent of those who were eligible turned out in three presidential elections, including the one in 1860 when Lincoln and Douglas faced each other for a second time. In no election between 1836 and 1904 did less than 70 percent cast their ballot. Contrast that with today’s figures.

The Gingrich-Kalb proposal is up against a changed culture in which politics, no matter how critical the issues might be, competes with other form of popular culture. Professional sports are only an example. There are soap operas, game shows, competition between individuals of limited talent, and the sagas of various exhibitionist entertainers to contend with as well.

The proposal also has to contend with what is undoubtedly a shortened attention span since 1858. It would be nice to think that we all would sit in front of our TV’s to watch nine-times-90-minutes of serious political discussion next year, never touching our remotes, but I have my doubts. There were no remotes on the plains of Illinois in 1858, and most folks would not have used them if they could.

In short, the Gingrich-Kalb proposal envisions not only a sweeping change in political discourse, but a revolution in current American values. As usual, Shakespeare had it right: “The fault … is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

Lynn Hudson Parsons of Castine is professor emeritus of American history at the State University of New York, Brockport.