So far this year, my native Malaysia has hit the global headlines twice—and not for good reasons. In January, the country was gripped by terror as houses of worship were bombed and vandalized in an almost unprecedented episode of sectarian strife. Now, the trial of opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim is underway—and as the only person ever prosecuted under our archaic Penal Code’s prohibition of sodomy, it is clear that he faces these charges for reasons of politics, not justice.

Prime Minister Najib Razak, leader of the National Front government, presents himself as a moderate, Western-educated liberal. Upon assuming office, his administration launched a campaign for “1 Malaysia”—connoting a nation united, rather than divided, by its diverse cultural heritage. He speaks of democracy and tolerance.

I and many other Malaysians, however, see Najib (we refer to Malays by their first names) as a redux of Mahathir Mohamad, who, during his 22-year tenure as Prime Minister, had Anwar charged with sodomy and eventually succeeded in jailing him on trumped-up corruption charges. Despite painting himself as a moderate and tolerant Malaysian leader, Mahathir’s reign was marked by a sharpening of the sectarian fractures in our society, and swift repression of anything other than the most muted dissent.

The Najib regime is putting authoritarianism back in style, after a brief breath of fresh air under his predecessor, Abdullah Badawi. Prominent leaders in the National Front, including Ministers and some of Najib’s close aides, have been openly urging Najib to repress political dissent under our draconian Sedition Act and Internal Security Act—the latter of which allows the government to jail any person without trial, indefinitely. Although Najib has been forced to reprimand some of these hardliners, he shows no intention of adopting Abdullah’s relaxed attitudes toward democracy and openness.

Najib’s actions speak louder than his words. Even before formally assuming the premiership, Najib led the National Front in toppling the democratically-elected People’s Alliance opposition government of Perak state. Last December, when the High Court ruled that the Catholic Church could use the term “Allah” for God in its newsletter, Najib’s administration strenuously denounced the judgment despite the obvious unconstitutionality of arbitrary restrictions on freedom of speech and faith. Najib's stance fanned the extremist sentiments amongst Malay Muslims, which ultimately led to attacks on churches and other houses of worship across the country in January.

Last year, an activist friend and I edited a book, Where is Justice, concerning the more egregious abuses resulting from the government’s cavalier attitude toward individual liberties. We focused on police brutality and custodial deaths. Among the cases discussed is the most powerful police officer in the country, the Inspector-General, beating Anwar himself to a pulp in a jail cell during his first sodomy trial. We also delved into the suspicious case of Altantuya Shaariibuu, the Mongolian mistress of one of Najib’s closest associates. Altantuya was murdered by Najib’s own bodyguards, but the courts refused to investigate the matter on anything but the most superficial basis. The government has effectively banned this book from the nation’s bookstores.

In January, the Home Ministry and the police raided bookstores across the country, confiscating copies of our book and a satirical take on Najib’s “1 Malaysia” titled 1 Funny Malaysia. The government strenuously insists it has not banned either book, but merely needs these copies for “review”—even though one Home Ministry spokesperson has called them “offensive,” and other government statements have suggested that they are threats to national security. So much for openness and tolerance of dissent.

Bookstores now refuse to sell either book, and our publisher, which had previously published two other books with us, is now dithering on whether it will publish another. The chilling effect is very real, and it is driving reasonable dialogue underground. The books continue to sell briskly online and in some bookstores—which sell them from behind the counter—but at the cost of confusion and outrage amongst members of the public, who demand to know why they cannot read these books.

The National Front has always paternalistically insisted that in our plural society, freedom of speech and opinion is far too dangerous to be anything other than limited. Ethnic rioting in the capital after a disputed 1969 election riven along racial lines has continuously allowed the authorities to justify suppressing dissent under the auspices of protecting public order and security. Although the openness that characterized the Abdullah administration may have allowed radical and extreme sentiments to bubble to the surface, it also allowed a reasoned debate about where we see our country going, and what we can do about it.

The benefits of a marketplace of ideas are common knowledge in most of the Western world. Unfortunately, the Najib administration believes it can get away with locking up dissenters like Anwar, bullying the People’s Alliance, silencing independent voices, and even restricting the freedom of faith—one of our most cherished liberties. The next election might be as early as next year, or as late as 2013. Hopefully, we will then tell Najib and the National Front exactly what we think of their authoritarian regime.