Burmese are "voting" this weekend in a constitutional referendum staged by its ruling military junta, the same rulers who have so dramatically in the past week put their personal political interests, once again, ahead of their people.

May 3, Cyclone Nargis swept across southern Myanmar, leaving more than 28,000 Burmese dead and 33,000 still missing as it washed away people along with their homes. International aid groups say the death toll could rise to 100,000 as humanitarian conditions worsen; Oxfam estimates the disaster could eventually claim the lives of as many as 1.5 million Burmese if lack of clean water and sanitation result in medical catastrophe.

In the aftermath of the storm, Myanmar's rulers have blocked or confiscated much of the food and supplies donated by the United Nations and other foreign groups, barring foreigners from distributing donations. The generals running Myanmar have put their own names on some of the donated food allowed into the country before giving it away.

But Saturday, while humanitarian relief from last week's cyclone mostly remained on hold, elections were held across all but the most devastated regions of Myanmar. The elections were designed to ensure the military retained power in the long term, while rulers touted the vote as a move toward democracy.

Myanmar's state-owned media urged citizens to vote in favor of a new constitution, which would reserve 25% of seats in the Myanmar parliament for military officers. Outside experts call the vote unfair and expect it to result in a win for the government, partly because of the propaganda and partly because soldiers and civilian government employees are required to vote under observation by their bosses. Soldiers guarded polling places, and some Burmese people say government officials cast "yes" votes for them when they arrived at the polls.

Conveniently for the current regime, the new constitution would also decree Burmese who have married foreigners ineligible to hold office. That would leave "the lady" unelectable. The lady, as Burmese call her, is the nation's last democratically elected leader, the Nobel Peace Prize-winner Aung San Suu Kyi. She has been under periodic house arrest since 1990, the year her pro-democracy party was elected in a landslide victory.

Eighteen years ago, Burma--before it was renamed Myanmar by its military rulers--suffered a political disaster. Gradually, it became an economic disaster as well; per-capita gross domestic product stands at just $239 today, and a third of its 50 million people live below the poverty line. May 3, Myanmar was hit by a massive natural disaster, and one week later, by a renewed political crisis.

Five weeks ago, I visited Myanmar. I arrived by ship at the nation's main port, up-river from the Andaman Sea, not far from where the devastating cyclone struck. Even then, a month before the devastating cyclone hit, it was clear that the economy in resource-rich Myanmar has already been decimated by the reclusive generals running the country.

There was little activity at the port. A few small metal shipping containers, perhaps filled with clothing or beans, were awaiting export. But far more conspicuous were the trucks stacked high with logs trundling toward the port.

Two things were striking: First, that the country was clearly exporting more in trees than any other product from this port. And second, that the logs on their way out were not very big--perhaps a foot across. Myanmar has already cut down and exported many of its most valuable teak trees, and in economic desperation has moved on to logging younger forests.

The logs are sent abroad to be processed into lumber and made into furniture, which means the Burmese aren't even getting most of the value from those trees, because the enterprises that actually turn such logs into furniture reap far higher profits.

To be sure, Myanmar has two other major exports besides logging, beans and clothing. One is legal: natural gas, most of which is located offshore. That accounts for 30% of the nation's annual $3.6 billion in exports, according to the International Monetary Fund.

But it also turns out that Myanmar's climate--both natural and political--is excellent for growing opium poppies. Myanmar's biggest export, estimated between $1 billion and $2 billion annually (credible statistics are a little hard to come by), may be illicit drugs rather than natural gas.

If the entire 2006 poppy harvest in Myanmar was processed into heroin, it would have a street value of $1.8 billion, according to the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime. The nation is also a major source of methamphetamine, according to the CIA.

The combination of illicit activity and economic desperation makes Myanmar a center for another tragic export business: that of human beings. Men, women and children from Myanmar are trafficked in forced labor, especially prostitution.

An hour's drive from the port is the commercial capitol, Yangon (known as Rangoon before it was also renamed by the government). Golden spires from Buddhist temples and pagodas stretch toward the sky--dozens of them visible from the bumpy two-lane highway. The gold, gem-encrusted temples and pagodas are symbols of both past civilization and the riches being squandered by the nation's leaders.

There are signs of modernization. At Yangon's largest tourist attraction, Shwedagon Pagoda, private donors hve installed blinking neon lights in some shrines, imparting a jarring 1970s disco gloss to one of Buddhism's most sacred places.

And while the rest of the nation struggles to keep the lights on, Yangon has a bright, modern international airport terminal that opened last year. The terminal is mostly empty, as if anticipating waves of tourists that haven't yet shown up.

Perhaps after the latest sham election, the military government could use it for landing planeloads of food and supplies for its star-crossed citizens.

Robyn Meredith is senior editor, Asia, for Forbes magazine and the author of The Elephant and the Dragon: What the Rise of India and China Means for All of Us (W. W. Norton, 2007).