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The summer of 2022 saw major policy breakthroughs: the in U.S. history and the presidential directive to forgive student loan debt. These represent notable steps forward for the planet and past and future students. But it’s more than just the substance of these policies that’s a breakthrough, it’s also the process by which these policies made it onto the agenda and were enacted. There’s been a change in the way policy gets made in Washington—one that could be a source of hope for democracy in the long run, if we can overcome the challenges it presents.

Many of the climate policies, and certainly student loan forgiveness, are the outcome of movement politics. They are ideas developed and advocated by energized popular movements, starting on the margins, that pushed politicians such as President Joe Biden to go further than they had been prepared to go. As a result, these policies are ambitious, and have enthusiastic constituencies and an established base of support that can sustain them if the political ground shifts.

This might seem to be a banal point. Aren’t many policy changes, whether progressive or regressive, driven by popular movements? When government does take action intended to support broad public interests, isn’t it only when pressed by organized, vocal and strategic constituencies?

This was certainly true of the New Deal and the Progressive Era reforms. Yet, it really wasn’t the way policy was designed in the more technocratic era since about the late 1960s, especially for Democrats. From a number of recent books about policymaking in the 1990s, and my own experiences as a congressional staffer, I’ve realized that it definitely wasn’t how Democrats or progressives approached the work of policy. Instead, even the most liberal tended to look for local examples of innovation, driven by “social entrepreneurs” with public relations skills, and propose to expand those programs, such as job training or microlending, to the national level. Or they would design programs, such as President Clinton’s health plan, with experts behind closed doors, insulated from either pressure or support from broad constituencies. Short-term political considerations often played a significant role, encouraging small-ball initiatives or reactionary moves such as the 1996 welfare reform law. So did cost. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO), which estimates the fiscal impact of policies, operated like a fourth branch of government.

In my own work in political reform, I’ve seen a shift from an approach to policymaking that was incremental, elite-driven, and occasionally bipartisan toward a broad, energized movement for reforms, such as a constitutional amendment to , create generous public financing systems, or even . These new causes have an engaged, passionate constituency. But, it’s no longer bipartisan. And that constituency sometimes mobilizes around . But if there’s any hope of salvaging American democracy from this moment of crisis, it can only happen with the support of an energized movement.

It’s hard to draw a sharp line between elite, technocratic policy design and movement-driven policy, except at the extremes, but there are a few distinctive characteristics of movement-driven policy design. I’ve identified three.

One, of course, is its ambition. Movement politics often draws heavily on the concept of the Overton window—the claim that by pushing an idea that seems far beyond the realm of the politically possible, we can shift the “window” of what’s plausible and achieve a result that’s closer to what we want.

The Overton window is not a law or supported by evidence from political science, though. It for a conservative Michigan think tank. It worked in the case of student loan reform, but just as often, advocates who think they’re moving the window can find themselves isolated from the actual policy conversation. But ambitious goals around good policy are surely preferable to the cramped incrementalism of Clinton- and even Obama-era policymaking.

A second characteristic of movement-driven policy is a deep commitment to universal or near-universal programs and benefits. Because they are often speaking from their own experience, activists tend to be acutely aware of real-world barriers to participation, and the sense of stigma when benefits are limited to those deemed needy and deserving.

Finally, movement-based advocates focus on the benefits of programs and treat cost as an afterthought, something they learned from the right in its approach to tax cuts. The obsession with budget deficits over the past three decades became overwhelming, severely limiting the range of options available to democratic decision-making. By taking executive action on student loans, the administration was able to bypass CBO and the various budget-related procedures that would have held Congress back. This might be unsustainable; if the costs of such initiatives run much higher than expected, there could be a backlash. But the prioritizing of benefits over costs is a welcome realignment, and opens up many opportunities for democratic choices that will improve people’s lives.

The emergence of energized movement politics—in an arc that spans the anti-globalization protests in Seattle in 1999, the Occupy movement in 2011, and the Women’s March and Black Lives Matter protests of the last decade—has been transformative, especially for progressive politics, and for the relationship between people and government. While movement-driven policy has its risks, it offers real hope for change that would never have been imaginable in the technocratic policy world of the recent past.