It is sadly appropriate that George Orwell should have written Burmese Days before moving on to 1984. Modern Burma has suffered from an odious form of military rule, punctuated by various periods of intense repression such as that which occurred in response to protests led by Buddhist monks last September. The regime has also proved as economically inept as it is politically sadistic. In the 1950s, Burma was considered a country with the potential for relative prosperity. Since then, however, the army has presided over a staggeringly incompetent form of central planning that has left the 53 million citizens of the country among the poorest in their continent.

To all this misery has now come the impact of Cyclone Nargis. At least 4,000 people are reported dead but with the numbers of missing that are acknowledged and sketchy reports from some of the remotest provinces affected, it would be little surprise if the tally were to be tripled. Estimates are, in any case, reliant on the accuracy and candour of the regime itself, which cannot be taken for granted. And as the area struck is the ricebowl for the rest of Burma, the humanitarian consequences of this whirlwind may be catastrophic.

The event poses the outside world with a dilemma. There is an overwhelming need to direct aid to the devastated places and people. Those human beings should not have to suffer further on account of their Government. The terms on which the junta will tolerate such assistance, however, could well be problematic. It will not be enthusiastic about external organisations distributing food to the population. But if the likes of the Red Cross cannot operate as they would wish, then there is the risk that resources that should be delivered to those left homeless by this massive storm will be diverted to warehouses to be exploited by the military leadership. Despite that danger, support has to be offered. It is better that some aid is provided than that millions of people face the dire threat of hunger.

The regime would, nevertheless, improve its external standing a little if it suspended its scheme to conduct a constitutional referendum scheduled for Saturday. This has been presented as part of a plan to pave the way for a multiparty ballot in 2010, but dissidents have sound reason to contend that the motive is more sinister. The proposed constitution asserts, for instance, that the military will hold one quarter of national and regional parliamentary seats, that the executive president must always have had previous military experience and that a series of ministerial portfolios would be reserved for military personnel. In other suitably Orwellian twists, this document states that the commander-in-chief of the armed forces may dismiss the government (and not the other way round) and that no one may be put forward to serve as president who has ever been married to a foreigner (conveniently excluding Aung San Suu Kyi, the principal opposition leader, whose late husband was British).

It was bad enough that the military intended to ensure a “yes” vote through a combination of bribery, intimidation and straightforward rigging that makes Robert Mugabe appear an amateur. The notion that it is seriously considering continuing with its scheme despite the manifest impracticality of doing so in these circumstances is utterly obscene. The world must do its best to help the Burmese people through this immediate natural disaster. It can only be hoped that in time they will be liberated from the man-made disaster that is their military Government as well.