It is impossible not to hope that the catastrophe in Burma undermines one of the most oppressive and unpleasant dictatorships in the world. There are a few reasons why it might, although the regime's brutal resilience means that this can be only a slim chance.

The first is the scale of the tragedy — the number of dead, still climbing yesterday, and the annihilation of much of the country's rice crop. Any normal government would call to the world for help; even the Burmese junta is under pressure to accept the food and other help now showered on it.

That did not count for much in the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami when the regime spurned offers of help. Yesterday there were signs that it might accept money and food aid — but was balking at letting in the teams of workers to distribute it.

Yet it has a problem if it refuses — hard to call it a political problem in a land without politics — but a risk of reigniting opposition, and fanning it further with a demonstration of the limits to its own control.

The Burmese cannot blame their Government for the cyclone but they can for all the effects. As Laura Bush, the American First Lady, said yesterday: “Although they were aware of the threat, Burma's state-run media failed to issue a timely warning to citizens in the storm's path.”

The State Peace and Development Council, as the junta calls itself, will be even more to blame if thousands more now die from starvation or disease when so much has been offered and when its own security forces have appeared so unwilling or unable to help. “Last time they came here just like ants, from where I don't know. Now I can't see any — no army, no police,” said one Rangoon resident, comparing this week's response with last September's violent and immediate crackdown on the protests led by Buddhist monks.

Would that make any difference to the regime? The active protests by the monks did not. But it might, a bit. The regime has not shown itself concerned in the slightest about the wellbeing of its people. But it appeared rattled by last year's protests — and the impossibility of stopping the world from seeing them, in an age of mobile phones and tiny cameras. The size of the demonstrations, and the support they won around the world, told the ageing junta that it could not build a wall around its country and completely shut out the modern world, as it has been so determined to do.

Its most preposterous move to shore up its support is the referendum it was due to hold on Saturday — now postponed by a few weeks — to win backing for a “democratic constitution”. Many Burmese, rightly, see this as the generals' ploy to entrench themselves in power with a pretence of legitimacy. Why bother, however, unless they did put some value on that pretence, even if the world doesn't?

They are not blind to the revolutions or opposition dislodging military regimes (as in Pakistan), or the protests that can rattle even powerful authoritarian ones (the generals have had a careful eye on the progress of the Olympic torch, we can assume).

They have an antique and ridiculous sense of what might strengthen their grip. But they might still recognise that it is in their own interests this time — to head off even more furious criticism abroad as well as bitter protests at home — if they let in aid and people to help.

That alone would acknowledge the usefulness of the outside world, a step the junta has never wanted to take - and so would begin to change Burma.

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