ONCE AGAIN BURMA'S RULERS are back in the spotlight.Not for crushing a peaceful protest, as they did last September, but for hampering aid to their long- suffering people in the wake of cyclone Nargis. Some observers hope that this could spell the end of a loathsome regime in the wake of Burma's most devastating natural disaster. But this is probably the worst time for the regime to fall.

The number of dead from the effects of the cyclone is now believed to be 100,000, with many more in desperate need of emergency aid. Hundreds of thousands of people remain homeless and stranded across a vast and inaccessible area. The stately tropical trees that line the roads of the Irrawaddy delta have been flicked over by the force of the storm, leaving many roads impassable.

Eyewitnesses describe piles of corpses, with no-one to cremate or bury them, next to contaminated water supplies. Cholera outbreaks have already been reported and people are beginning to starve. A week after the storm, hardly any aid has reached this stricken land. Deeply suspicious of outsiders, Burma's military rulers continue to stall on visas for UN teams and other foreign aid workers anxious to deliver food, water and medicine to survivors.

This would be a calamity in any country. But in Burma, because of decades of self-imposed isolation, misrule and sanctions, the country is already in a terrible condition. Electricity is sporadic and restricted to urban areas, communications and roads are poor, and the healthcare system is woefully underfunded. In the delta, the cyclone has swept what infrastructure existed aside, and more rain is to come.

Many outsiders see this as a chance for years of military rule to come to an end, and that Mother Nature could be credited with breaking a junta that sanctions could not. But this would herald further disasters.

Burma is a military superstate. In1962, when the army took over, they sealed the country off from the outside world. The military became a state within the state of an insular society in which military men dominated the economy and every other sphere of Burmese life.

The junta has ensured, through brutality, that any organised opposition was crushed. Aung San Suu Kyi remains under house arrest and her party members scattered or in prison. There has been a steady brain drain for many years, and there are few people outside the military qualified to govern. This means that, if the regime were to collapse or fragment, there would be nothing to fill the void. The unpalatable fact is that the regime has ensured that it is the only functioning structure that can keep the country together.

This long-term isolation has left the regime deeply suspicious of outsiders, and its paranoia knows no limits. The senior leadership, cut off for decades, have little concept of the world beyond the country's borders and no need to engage with the outside world. This is an army that has been reared on "internal and external threats", of long experience of jungle warfare and a self-imposed isolation. And this siege-like mentality only fosters a sense of the righteousness of their role in the future of their country.

They rule much like the Burmese kings of old, by divine right. Although limited sanctions have been imposed by the West, they have not had the desired effect of bringing about change, and the regime has retreated still further. Its move to the new capital of Nay Pyi Taw is evidence of this. The increasingly urgent calls from the UN and US to permit material aid and aid workers to enter the country only fuels suspicions of what the regime sees as a hostile world bent on "regime change".

The fact that the junta has requested aid from abroad is significant. But the contradictory placing of restrictions on aid personnel and distribution suggests that there is more than one voice coming from within the regime. The junta is no doubt concerned that it could lose control if it let Western aid organisations in. But they must be aware of the potential for trouble if they don't.

People have already expressed anger at the sluggish response to the disaster. The longer this continues, the greater the chance it could unleash a storm of fury that could go far beyond the immediate disaster area. After all, the delta supplies the entire country with 65% of its rice. This will be felt by everyone, including the military. And it has the potential to precipitate a split within the ranks.

THE military, especially the lower ranks, are aware that the army is unpopular, particularly after the suppression of the monks' protests last year. Among the majority Buddhists, the cyclone may well be seen as karmic retribution for the suppression of last September's protests. Some soldiers were reportedly deeply affected by their role in the beating of monks.

In a country that takes mysticism and soothsayers deeply seriously, the sight of so much devastation may well have a profound affect on their own world view. The fact that the cyclone came just days before the much-vaunted referendum, organised by the regime to endorse the country's newly written constitution, could be seen by many as an omen.

Burma has one of the largest standing armies in Asia, with about 400,000 men under arms. Despite massive amounts of military spending, soldiers of the lower ranks are poorly managed and resourced. Burma's crushing poverty ensures a steady supply of recruits. Many are forced to join, kidnapped from their villages and streets. They are then sent for rudimentary training before being dispatched to frontline areas to combat numerous ethnic insurgencies.

Corruption and nepotism are widespread. As a result, morale among the enlisted ranks is low and the army is plagued by desertion. The calamity of the cyclone could be decisive.

Probably the only thing more important to a Burmese soldier than following orders is his attachment to family in this deeply conservative country. The devastation of the cyclone could pit the lower ranks against their officers if assistance is not provided, not just in the short term but in the months ahead. The Irrawaddy delta has long been a major recruiting ground for the armed forces. Add the fact that the regime did nothing when warned in advance about the cyclone, and the anger will mount.

For the rest of the country the impact of this is still to be felt. When supplies of rice begin to dry up, not to mention fuel and electricity, the political situation will become critical. Most of the uprisings against the regime, including last year's, have been sparked by economic crisis. And this affects those with the least to lose. Before, there were calls for democratic rights and freedom. Now the problem is one of survival. And it is unlikely to be organised and peaceful this time.

Last year, I was among a handful of journalists to be invited to the junta's annual military parade in the new capital of Nay Pyi Taw. When I listened to the regime's leader, general Than Shwe, as he addressed his troops, there was nothing in his words that indicated change was on the horizon. The generals looked self-assured and smug. Than Shwe rebuked Western countries and showed few signs of his reported ill-health.

"Judging from lessons of history," he said, "it is certain that powerful countries wishing to impose their influence on our nation will make any attempt in various ways to undermine national unity".

He ended his speech with a vow to crush "internal and external destructive elements obstructing the stability and development of the state." Looking back in the wake of the cyclone, he could have been talking about himself.

Nic Dunlop all rights reserved 2008.

Nic Dunlop is a Bangkok-based photographer and author. He is completing a photo-led book on Burma's dictatorship entitled Burma: Betrayal