WITH JERRY BROWN attracting 30 percent of the Democratic primary vote in New York with a political campaign against politics, with a noncandidate (Paul Tsongas) capturing another 30 percent of Democrats, with public confidence in Congress at an all-time low and voter dissatisfaction at an all-time high, it is obvious that Americans are sick of their politicians.

That disgust begins with young voters. We are the ones who are voting for Brown, because we are the Americans with the least faith in the American political system. Our generation votes less, knows less and has less trust in American politics than any in history.

Our ignorance and apathy are not an indifference to the world: We are involved in grassroots activism for environmental and social causes. We are disgusted with American political culture. As a generation raised on a constant flood of split-second MTV images, we are both accustomed to soundbite politics and sick of it. Although we adore television and enjoy moments of political video ("Make my Day"; "Where's the Beef?"), we also recognize their emptiness. The moments are brief diversions and nothing else.

That politics appears only to be television spectacle denudes it--dissolves it into the rest of the homogenized junk on the airwaves--no more than a music video, or a sitcom or a made-for-TV movie; just as easy to tune out, just as irrelevant to daily life. The language of Madison Avenue is the language of pollsters is the language of politics.

THE WAY TO TURN our apathy around is to take up the weapons of modern politics--the video camera and the threat of bad press--and invert them for the good. This idea has two parts. The first--"Maumauing the Spin Doctors"--uses the threat of negative publicity to force political debate. The second, and more important, part--which does not need a catchy title--concentrates on encouraging real, face-to-face dialogue between politicians and our generation.

What I envision is an expanded, rational version of the kind of political theater practiced by Abbie Hoffman or ACT-UP. A few of us, just those diehard political types at first, would take video cameras and go visit local elected officials and candidates in their offices. It would begin at colleges and graduate schools, or among grassroots activists in cities. In a city like Boston, local activist groups could descend on the state legislators. In Washington, the vast army of students and activists could work on the whole Congress.

The groups could be partisan or not. They could be concerned about one specific issue or not. It wouldn't matter at the beginning. Basically, these people and their video cameras would demand to see a politician in order to have a face-to-face dialogue. If the politician refuses, the group gets a nice video, a la "Roger and Me," that it can distribute to television stations. It is "Mau-mauing the Spin Doctors" and it turns the weapon of the political hack--the negative sound bite--against those who refuse to meet and talk to their constituents. It is punishment for the wicked.

Admittedly, mau-mauing is a dubious tactic, but the sad fact is that politics have changed: If we want to make our representatives listen to us, we have to hit them with weapons they understand. Unresponsive politicians would learn quickly that ignoring constituents with cameras, voices and energy does not pay. This tactic forces our politicians, who are widely perceived as disconnected to citizens, to connect or be burned.

That is the ugly side. The second part is more pleasant and constructive. When politicians agree to meet with the groups--which they will--there will be nice, long dialogues, with no cameras. The group and the politicians should probably set ground rules at the start: The group has an hour to express its concerns or ask its questions. The politician gets the same amount to respond. This is the crux of the idea--a willingness to engage in substantive, unfettered, unedited, unrehearsed discussion. The people who lead these groups, whether students or activists, must believe the spectacle is only a threat, and that the debate is all important.

And what would all this discussion do? It would take politics out of seven-second snippets and force it into the world of subtleties, where an issue can get at least some of the time it deserves.

Most importantly, it would make politicians listen to a constituency that is largely ignored. Politicians can count, and they know we don't vote. But we represent the future--a very compelling interest. If we start to make politicians hear us, we may change the way they think.

Because politicians are always up for reelection and always beholden to campaign contributors, long-term political thinking has becomes a dead idea. But our concerns are long-term ones (Will there be an ozone layer in 2020?) and we have to use our political muscle to get them heard.

VIDEO CAMERA tactics have three great advantages. First, they capitalize on the tools of youth: Energy and free time. College students have lots of time to do things (they lack jobs and families), and plenty of physical and mental energy to do them with. Second, dramatic political activity is exciting: It's hard to top the thrill of meeting people, arguing with them and persuading them. Finally, we can't say no to television. Look at the success of home video shows. Look at the video coups of ACT-UP. We can't resist the power that comes from controlling television.

Our revolution will start small, because so few of us are still interested in politics. There will be a few acts in a few state legislatures by a few small groups. Then, as the television images and stories spread, as they did with Abbie Hoffman's shenanigans 20 years ago, people will rush to join. And while these tactics will draw us with their TV thrills, they will keep us because we will start learning the issues. And, more importantly, they will keep us because we will learn that it is still possible for us to make our voices heard in this democracy. And that lesson, I hope, we can teach the rest of America.

A version of this piece won the Institute of Politics' 25th Anniversary Essay Contest in 1991.