BEFORE AN ELECTION in Serbia, there is a two-day " electoral silence " observed by the media and the candidates. Fines of a few thousand dollars can be imposed by the government for breaking the silent period. But one self-styled " presidential candidate " dispensed with the blackout — and held a rock concert in central Belgrade on the first night of the electoral silence.

Igor Blazarevic — a rock-’n’-roll comic known as " Inspektor Blaza " — wasn’t on the official ballot. But if he had been, he might have scored more votes than the other eight candidates on the ballot — none of whom broke the five percent mark in the first round of voting. Blaza even took pains to ensure that his presidential sales shtick had a veneer of reality to it. Posters for his show — printed up in the style of a political ad — blanketed central Belgrade. He even offered a platform that included proposals to place teenagers on pensions ( " They don’t like to work anyway " ), revive the deutsche mark as a currency, import pigeons for the elderly to feed, and banish women to the kitchen.

Blaza’s concert, held in the Student Cultural Center in downtown Belgrade, offered frenzied classic-rock kitsch with a sardonic veneer slightly reminiscent of the Tubes in its overall bombast and humor. Yet even in its rampant silliness, the concert offered rare cultural commentary on an electoral campaign devoid of the energy and interest that accompanied the 2000 elections. The turnout for the first round of voting in Serbia was 55 percent — down almost 20 percent from 2000, and the lowest since multiparty elections began in 1990.

The apathy clinging to the 2002 presidential election has a number of explanations. Certainly, the infighting among the coalition that swept Milosevic from power has turned voters off. The fact that Sunday’s vote was held to finally replace discredited president Milan Milutinovic — who is serving out his term despite a war-crimes indictment — remains one of the campaign’s persistent ironies. Yet many observers chalk up the current electoral listlessness to a strong sense of betrayed hope and disillusionment with the promise of two years ago.

Valdimir Markovic, guitarist and songwriter for one of Serbia’s best rock bands, Presing, offers one view of the difference that two years has made. " In October 2000, it looked like Serbia is going to become a rock-and-roll state, definitely, " he says of the jubilation and artistic freedom unleashed by Milosevic’s fall — including the release of many albums delayed by the 1999 NATO bombing campaign and the political turmoil that followed it. " In a short idyllic interim, you could hear and see rock music dominating everywhere you turned, while changes were happening and right afterwards — because it was Serbia’s rock-and-roll generation that carried changes on its shoulders.

" But in September 2002, " Markovic continues, " if someone would judge [based on] the music he can listen to on the radio and television, he would definitely conclude that Milosevic is still in power.... Rockers are nowhere, and Generation X is once more Generation X. " Indeed, much of the music that one hears in Belgrade these days is far from the political underground rock inspired by resistance to Milosevic’s regime. Now, play lists are dominated by bland domestic pop music, US and UK alternative rockers, such as Wilco, and anonymous drum ’n’ bass and house.

Rising young politician Aleksandar Marinkovic — whose Movement for a Democratic Serbia supports Labus in the campaign — argues that it is still hard for younger Serbs to imagine what changes they can make in their own country. " Think about this, " Marinkovic says. " Seventy percent of young people in this country have never gone abroad. They have no idea what things could be like elsewhere. "

The dissatisfaction runs even deeper than culture and youth politics, however. Even those who were deeply engaged in the last electoral campaign have felt similar paralysis and hesitation to re-engage in politics. Groups such as Glas Razlike ( " Voice of Difference " ) — founded in 1999 to energize and give expression to women’s voices in Serbian politics — played a major role in the 2000 presidential and parliamentary elections. The group organized women in 30 cities, going door to door to reach over 45,000 women, and published leaflets in Hungarian and Romany as well as in Serbian.

But in this electoral campaign, Glas Razlike is staying out of the fray. Instead, it's working quietly within party structures and presenting analyses of party political platforms on women’s issues. Along with other non-governmental organizations in Serbia, it has refrained from endorsing candidates or organizing door to door in 2002. Glas Razlike’s coordinator, Biljana Miletin, says that the group’s organizing and networking has stubbornly resisted translation into concrete practical gains. At present, for instance, only eight of the Serbian parliament’s 250 members are women.

Glas Razlike has also had particular problems organizing women politicians as a caucus. Djindjic’s Democratic Party added women’s issues to its platform only after lobbying from Glas Razlike and other groups — and it has been among the most sensitive to women’s issues. " As far as Kostunica’s party, " Miletin observes of the Democratic Party of Serbia, " we don’t cooperate with their women. They don’t allow their women to organize themselves within their party. "

Maletin says that she agreed with the initial decision by groups such as her own to refrain from active campaigning in 2002. But she’s started to change her mind — particularly in light of the obstacles that Kostunica’s party has placed on its own women members’ ability to organize.

" As I think about it now, " Maletin says, " we may have made a wrong decision. After all, in the 2000 election, it was women and young people who decided that election. "

On Tuesday, Djindjic told the Serbian news agency Beta that the low turnout was due to voter satisfaction — and not the other way around. " People are looking for a reason to vote for, not against, " he said. " The mistake of many campaign headquarters was in attempting to mobilize emotions against the Serbian government in the same way that they did against the Milosevic regime. A large number of people refused to participate in that. "

But given the choice, Serbs who did vote cast ballots in large numbers for the hard-line and isolationist politics of the past. Even in the narrower choice between Djindjic’s own candidate — Labus — and Kostunica’s slower reforms and nationalistic veneer, voters gave Kostunica an edge.

What this means for Europe and the United States is clear. Expecting Serbia to show the strong political will to change and to sacrifice comfort that was shown in the Czech Republic and Hungary after their 1989 revolutions appears highly unreasonable. Serbia appears to be on much the same path as Slovakia — which only recently firmly ensconced its reformers in power after 10 years of flirtation with former hard-line leader Vladimir Meciar.

The resurgence of nationalist sentiment so soon after Milosevic’s fall is a sign that Europe and the US must continue to pay close attention to the Balkans. But Seselj and his gang may also prove to be the " something " that many reform-minded Serbians will flock to the polls to vote against in the future.

Richard Byrne is a German Marshall Fund of the United States journalism fellow. He can be reached at richardbyrne1@earthlink.net