We’ve made some pretty tremendous strides since the days of secret trials and unusually cruel punishments.

We’ve evolved, at least in principal, to a system of public scrutiny of government, to juries of peers and open trials.

We’ve lashed out against closed doors, and rightfully so.

But despite our progress, despite righting thousands of wrongs, in some ways we haven’t come very far.

We as college students are living proof.

As readers of the Iowa State Daily, you’ve heard a lot about closed campus courts lately. You’ve heard that members of The September 29th Movement were tried and convicted essentially in secret. And you’ve heard the Daily, as a newspaper, say that it isn’t right.

What you haven’t heard, in great detail, is why you should care. And trust me, you should care.

One of the most respected media personalities around said so on campus last week. “If the First Amendment were put to a vote today it wouldn’t pass,” said Geneva Overholser, former editor of The Des Moines Register and current ombudsman of The Washington Post.

That, she said, is frightening.

I agree.

Overholser challenged newspaper types to change that. So, as your local newspaper editor in residence, here goes:

You should care that your fellow students were tried behind closed doors because someday it could be you. Someday you could peacefully defy authority while standing up for what you believe.

Maybe you’ll be protesting university investments. Maybe you’ll be debating abortion. Maybe you’ll be pushing to get a football stadium renamed. Or maybe you’ll just want to be heard.

And maybe you’ll be charged. Then what will happen?

Maybe an arm of the government, like a public university, will say you’ve broken the rules. Maybe an official with an Office of Judicial Affairs will write you a letter. Maybe the letter will say you’ll soon be on trial, a trial that could cost you all of the student leadership offices that you wanted so you would be in position to do this very thing, to make a difference.

Maybe you’ll go, expecting a fair, impartial and open proceeding, where you’ll get a chance to plead your case. Maybe you’ll tell them that while you have indeed broken the rules, you were simply taking a stand, working for what you believe is a greater good.

Or maybe you will not have broken the rules at all. Maybe you will be unfairly charged and convicted by the same government body that’s acting as prosecutor, judge and jury.

Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, maybe you’ll be there. Maybe you’ll still be fighting.

Maybe you’ll make a good argument, an argument you think you should win. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe you’ll be eloquent, full of passion and drive, of truth and candor. Maybe you’ll offer proof that you’re right, proof — or evidence at least — that will make the charges against you seem silly. Maybe in that very room you’ll blow the lid off all of the injustices in your world.

Maybe nobody will hear you.

Because maybe, just maybe, the door will be shut.

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Chris Miller is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Marshalltown. He is editor in chief of the Daily.