There are plenty of things about Congress that could stand to be fixed; I can think of at least 535 of them right off the top of my head. But for now, I’m most interested in making just one tiny tweak to the status quo: Let them livestream.

If you can recall back to those waning moments of pre-Brexit innocence (i.e. Wednesday), our nation was all swept up in a conversation (of sorts) about gun control following the Pulse nightclub massacre in Orlando. Meanwhile, the resolute obstruction of Republican lawmakers was threatening to ensure the debate would once again be safely stowed in the unlocked cabinet of short-term American memory.

But then two things happened: One, a dramatic public gesture tied to a grand American tradition of civil protest; the other, an app you’re not supposed to use.

The sit-in on the House floor led by Georgia Representative John Lewis was a surge of civil disobedience rarely seen in the chambers of Congress. But what was unprecedented about it (and perhaps more significant) was the view afforded thousands of Americans through the Congressional smartphones.

Once the House is gaveled out of session, so too are C-SPAN’s cameras covering the floor. And once Speaker Paul Ryan peaced out for the day, Representative Scott Peters of California took the matter into his own hand (singular) and started live-streaming the unamplified speeches of his carpet-bound colleagues through the Twitter-based Periscope app — in clear violation of House rules against photos or video on the floor.

Thousands signed on and watched, tickled by the voyeurism of watching the legislature yawp. And as the viewer numbers ramped up, so did the intensity of the speakers. To lighten the load on Peters’s stream, Wired even ran a helpful explainer intended to show other members of Congress how to download and use the app. (No, sir, Periscope does not have “the Google.’’) Meanwhile, 19 other members of Congress signed on to Facebook Live to broadcast the proceedings — first to followers, and then to C-SPAN, which toggled between them all.

Typically, C-SPAN’s biggest thrills are reserved for whenever they open the phone lines on Washington Journal, but the live-streamed footage of the sit-in (hours of which are posted on the Periscope pages of Peters and fellow Californian Representative Eric Swalwell) was actually quite gripping.

Representative Debbie Dingell of Michigan recalled the terror she felt growing up with an emotionally unstable father and the threatening presence firearms held in her house; it was a speech made only more powerful by lack of microphone. In an emotional statement, Colorado’s Representative Diana DeGette (who represents the home district of Columbine High) railed against the formal silencing of the protest and thanked her live-streaming colleagues. Senator Elizabeth Warren spent her birthday at the sit-in, bringing Dunkin’ Donuts (likely another flouted rule) and briefly blocking the camera.

If heartfelt/blustery speeches aren’t anything particularly new on the floor, the choice seats most Americans had for them certainly were. At times, the shot would tilt away and show representatives on the carpet, propped up against the base of the dais. It was a surreal substitute for the composed symmetry of C-SPAN’s usual framing, and the effect was not just a slightly renegade edge, but a recalibration of how we see Congress — on a kind of equal footing. Close detail instead of grand abstraction. There were even times during the livestream that I found myself (gasp) looking up to them — like, from the actual floor.

New, too, was the silent commotion from the virtual galleries of Periscope. The representatives’ relentless chanting/branding of “No Bill! No Break!’’ was enough to drown out whatever real-life discord may have been happening in the upper rows, but online, the screen was nearly taken over by the ceaseless influx of comments.

A good many of them, as Gawker showcased with its compendium, were unhinged babble; but as many if not more were the earnest tappings of engaged viewers, watching the dirty work (and seasoned showmanship) of Congress unfold before them with unprecedented intimacy.

Granted, it was a rarely seen spectacle of Congressional proportions that lured thousands of viewers to sign on and watch, but could it have been this new voyeuristic vantage point that kept them watching? Could lifting the ban on cameras in the chambers create a new dynamic between voters and their elected officials? Does the requisite distance of the C-SPAN treatment shape the way we see the government? Would we pay closer attention the closer we could get?

I’m thinking yes to all of these things, and frankly, I’m wondering why there aren’t already lenses pinned to every lapel in the legislature, and a C-SPAN app that lets me toggle between senators. Why am I not getting a notification every time my reps take the floor? (Bonus idea: Silly hats for them as in-app purchases: $$$)

The world of livestreaming has already demonstrated that with good seats, we’ll watch pretty much anything — maybe even governance. And while this Democratic performance was a lot more dramatic than most democratic performance, livestreaming stands to erase the enforced distance between Washington and the rest of us. (No wonder it’s forbidden.) We put cams on our cops, so why not our Congress?

Michael Andor Brodeur can be reached at mbrodeur@globe.com. Follow him on Twitter @MBrodeur.