Natural disasters always have environmental, economic and social implications but, down the ages, they have also frequently had political consequences. Those of us wishing for the demise of Myanmar's brutal military regime have high hopes that out of the devastation of last week's cyclone will come the concerted civilian uprising that finally brings the generals crashing down. There are any number of examples to raise the spirits. The earthquake and tsunami that devastated the Portuguese capital of Lisbon in 1755 contributed to a shake-up of European intellectual thinking that led to the Enlightenment and the French revolution. Nicaraguans, outraged by dictator Anastasio Somoza, his relatives and cronies stealing international aid money meant for the victims of an earthquake in 1972, backed a revolt by Sandanista rebels; the Somozas were ousted seven years later. Acrimonious relations between Greece and Turkey were soothed as a result of the outpouring of aid and goodwill that followed quakes that struck the countries a month apart in 1999. But the tragedy that gives greatest hope for change in Myanmar is the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. The pounding of the Indonesian province of Aceh by the giant waves left 170,000 Acehnese dead and led to a breakthrough in talks between Jakarta and separatist rebels. Calls for independence gave way to a pact guaranteeing partial autonomy. Former Free Aceh Movement guerilla Irwandi Yusuf, who escaped from the prison he was in when the tsunami struck, is now the province's governor. To suggest that Asia's most destructive storm since 1991 could bring down the junta in Myanmar may seem pie-in-the-sky dreaming, given that the military has kept a firm grip on power for 46 years. Uprisings have been ruthlessly crushed. So protective are the generals of their positions that political opponents are routinely imprisoned or, in the case of the most prominent pro-democracy leaders like Aung San Suu Kyi, kept under house arrest. Foreigners are closely watched during visits, lest they sow the seeds of democracy. Even in the aftermath of Cyclone Nargis, those offering assistance are being treated with utmost suspicion; tens of thousands of people have been killed, hundreds of thousands injured, maybe 1 million are homeless, and still the junta procrastinates about who it should and should not let in to help. Anger is growing in the country. State-run media gave just one day's warning of the storm and put wind speeds at a quarter of what they turned out to be. The military, despite being all-pervasive in society, was slow to respond to the disaster, seemingly proving that the generals care little about the people they rule. The area affected is known as Myanmar's rice belt, and food prices nationwide are skyrocketing; rising costs were the reason for protests last year. Not all natural disasters change the political landscape. For each that does, another does not. The tsunami brought peace to Aceh, but not the similarly affected northeast of Sri Lanka, still wracked by fighting between the government and separatist Tamil Tiger rebels. Pakistani aid to India following the Gujarat quake in 2003 brought the leaders of the rival nations together for the first time within six months, although a year later the sides were again on the brink of war. Ilan Kelman, a researcher with the Centre for International Climate and Environmental Research - Oslo, told me yesterday that the only viable response to the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina in the US in 2005 was a national one, given the scale of the damage. President George W. Bush failed to act promptly, yet suffered minimal political backlash. Cyclone Nargis has dealt misery to a nation already suffering under an oppressive regime. A referendum on a new constitution aimed at reinstating democracy will change nothing; the process will only tighten the military's grip. The best hope for change lies in anger swelling under an international humanitarian presence to the point that the junta has no choice but to step aside. This may seem fanciful, but the record of political shifts from nature's fickle ways means the wish may not be that far-fetched. Peter Kammerer is the Post's foreign editor
