Post by Okwes on Jan 31, 2006 10:49:36 GMT -5
Connecting Indian Country: Talk-show host Harlan McKosato
by Paul KrzaEMAIL
www.hcn.org/servlets/hcn.Article?article_id=14654
Harlan McKosato. Courtesy Native America Calling
ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO — Up on the third floor of Oñate Hall, the
broadcast center for radio station KUNM-FM at the University of New
Mexico, a pungent, distinctive aroma hangs in the midday air. It
seems out of place in the halls of what looks like a nondescript
college office building.
"Did you smell the burning sage when you walked in? It has a calming
effect on me," says Harlan McKosato, who's about to race into Studio
49 at KUNM for the latest live installment of Native America Calling.
For the last seven years, McKosato, 37, has hosted this five-day-a-
week "electronic talking circle." The hour-long, often-controversial
program covers topics ranging from college sports teams' Indian
mascots to pumping groundwater from beneath the Navajo and Hopi
reservations.
The show "comes from our tradition of democracy," says the soft-
spoken McKosato, whose tribal roots are in Oklahoma with the Sac and
Fox/Ioway nations. "The concept of a talking circle uses an object,
maybe a staff with feathers on it or a shell with burning sage in it,
something that symbolizes humbling yourself in front of the Creator.
Everyone gets a chance to talk ... but at the same time (we)
recognize the protocol not to talk too long."
The show airs on some 45 public and tribal stations in the Western
United States and across Alaska; health care, education and land
preservation are among its most popular issues. "How we tap into
natural resources, that's always a big one," McKosato says. He's done
several programs on the Bush administration's energy bill, a proposal
that he says "has caused a lot of division among the tribes." The
legislation, which would allow greater tribal control over energy
development, has its defenders in Indian Country because it would
eliminate "all this bureaucratic red tape," McKosato says. "But
others worry: `Do the tribes have the leadership to enforce their own
regulations and be accountable?' "
McKosato fields phone calls ranging from Ketchikan, Alaska, to
Chinle, Ariz. On one recent show on logging in the Tongass National
Forest in Alaska, a Mescalero Apache listening on the Internet called
to offer support to his "brothers and sisters" in the north.
The show allows "the common person on the reservation to call in and
speak their minds," says Tom Goldtooth, the executive director of the
Indigenous Environmental Network, a Minnesota-based grassroots tribal
group. "It informs Indian Country on some hard-core issues that are
not covered in the mainstream media, with an open-mindedness to try
to get both sides."
McKosato came to Albuquerque a decade ago to work with a nonprofit
group called UNITY (United National Indian Tribal Youth). He began
working at NAC shortly after it went on the air and subsequently
replaced the first host. He says he aims his program not only at
Native Americans but also at non-tribal listeners.
"Growing up in Oklahoma where my best buddies were white guys, I
don't think I have the prejudice a lot of people experienced on some
of the reservations," he says. "In a lot of ways, I think I was
chosen for this position as bridge-builder between the cultures."
That attitude guides his choice of topics, he says: "Is it going to
empower listeners in some way about better choices they can make, and
does it have an element where the non-natives can feel like they can
connect?"
Keith Harper of the Native American Rights Fund says the show's
influence has been "extraordinary and dramatic." Harper, a Cherokee
who's the lead lawyer in the massive lawsuit to force the federal
government to turn over millions of dollars in oil and gas, grazing
and logging royalties owed to tribes (HCN, 2/4/02: Indian trust is
anything but), says the program "really has aided non-Indian people
to understand us, and it has aided Indians to know what's going on in
law, politics and society." When he appeared on the show to discuss
the royalty case, "we got calls from all over the place," including
Canada, where the program sparked discussions about a similar
situation in that country.
Unlike his higher-decibel, right-leaning AM-radio talk counterparts,
easygoing McKosato doesn't tolerate long-winded ravings and
complaints. "I never did see the benefit of unpleasant personing and moaning," he
says. "We've got to educate people."
McKosato himself has been the subject of controversy, most recently
for his now-admitted "struggle with alcohol" that led last year to an
arrest for domestic violence and later to a driving-while-intoxicated
charge. Anchorage-based Koahnic Broadcasting Corporation, which
produces the program, pulled him off the air for two weeks. When
McKosato returned, he admitted his problems — and said that he had
quit drinking and is in court-ordered counseling sessions. He's
discussed the incidents with listeners and hosted two programs on
tribal alcohol abuse. "It was a wake-up call," he says. "It's
something that's been with me, the struggle with alcohol. But if I
screw up again, I'll resign. They won't have to fire me. I want to be
worthy of being seen as an influential leader."
Back at Oñate Hall, McKosato readies for yet another show, shuffling
papers under a single, green-shaded light in otherwise darkened
Studio 49. "I still get nervous," he says, and he worries whether
guests will show up or listeners will call. But McKosato adds that he
always has a sure-fire back-up plan. "Any time I get into trouble, I
just open up the lines on the topic, `who's an Indian and who's not?'
The lines just light up," he says. "It's the most popular and
volatile show we do."
The author writes from Socorro, New Mexico.
To listen to the show online, or to find station affiliates, visit
www.nativeamericacalling.com.
by Paul KrzaEMAIL
www.hcn.org/servlets/hcn.Article?article_id=14654
Harlan McKosato. Courtesy Native America Calling
ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO — Up on the third floor of Oñate Hall, the
broadcast center for radio station KUNM-FM at the University of New
Mexico, a pungent, distinctive aroma hangs in the midday air. It
seems out of place in the halls of what looks like a nondescript
college office building.
"Did you smell the burning sage when you walked in? It has a calming
effect on me," says Harlan McKosato, who's about to race into Studio
49 at KUNM for the latest live installment of Native America Calling.
For the last seven years, McKosato, 37, has hosted this five-day-a-
week "electronic talking circle." The hour-long, often-controversial
program covers topics ranging from college sports teams' Indian
mascots to pumping groundwater from beneath the Navajo and Hopi
reservations.
The show "comes from our tradition of democracy," says the soft-
spoken McKosato, whose tribal roots are in Oklahoma with the Sac and
Fox/Ioway nations. "The concept of a talking circle uses an object,
maybe a staff with feathers on it or a shell with burning sage in it,
something that symbolizes humbling yourself in front of the Creator.
Everyone gets a chance to talk ... but at the same time (we)
recognize the protocol not to talk too long."
The show airs on some 45 public and tribal stations in the Western
United States and across Alaska; health care, education and land
preservation are among its most popular issues. "How we tap into
natural resources, that's always a big one," McKosato says. He's done
several programs on the Bush administration's energy bill, a proposal
that he says "has caused a lot of division among the tribes." The
legislation, which would allow greater tribal control over energy
development, has its defenders in Indian Country because it would
eliminate "all this bureaucratic red tape," McKosato says. "But
others worry: `Do the tribes have the leadership to enforce their own
regulations and be accountable?' "
McKosato fields phone calls ranging from Ketchikan, Alaska, to
Chinle, Ariz. On one recent show on logging in the Tongass National
Forest in Alaska, a Mescalero Apache listening on the Internet called
to offer support to his "brothers and sisters" in the north.
The show allows "the common person on the reservation to call in and
speak their minds," says Tom Goldtooth, the executive director of the
Indigenous Environmental Network, a Minnesota-based grassroots tribal
group. "It informs Indian Country on some hard-core issues that are
not covered in the mainstream media, with an open-mindedness to try
to get both sides."
McKosato came to Albuquerque a decade ago to work with a nonprofit
group called UNITY (United National Indian Tribal Youth). He began
working at NAC shortly after it went on the air and subsequently
replaced the first host. He says he aims his program not only at
Native Americans but also at non-tribal listeners.
"Growing up in Oklahoma where my best buddies were white guys, I
don't think I have the prejudice a lot of people experienced on some
of the reservations," he says. "In a lot of ways, I think I was
chosen for this position as bridge-builder between the cultures."
That attitude guides his choice of topics, he says: "Is it going to
empower listeners in some way about better choices they can make, and
does it have an element where the non-natives can feel like they can
connect?"
Keith Harper of the Native American Rights Fund says the show's
influence has been "extraordinary and dramatic." Harper, a Cherokee
who's the lead lawyer in the massive lawsuit to force the federal
government to turn over millions of dollars in oil and gas, grazing
and logging royalties owed to tribes (HCN, 2/4/02: Indian trust is
anything but), says the program "really has aided non-Indian people
to understand us, and it has aided Indians to know what's going on in
law, politics and society." When he appeared on the show to discuss
the royalty case, "we got calls from all over the place," including
Canada, where the program sparked discussions about a similar
situation in that country.
Unlike his higher-decibel, right-leaning AM-radio talk counterparts,
easygoing McKosato doesn't tolerate long-winded ravings and
complaints. "I never did see the benefit of unpleasant personing and moaning," he
says. "We've got to educate people."
McKosato himself has been the subject of controversy, most recently
for his now-admitted "struggle with alcohol" that led last year to an
arrest for domestic violence and later to a driving-while-intoxicated
charge. Anchorage-based Koahnic Broadcasting Corporation, which
produces the program, pulled him off the air for two weeks. When
McKosato returned, he admitted his problems — and said that he had
quit drinking and is in court-ordered counseling sessions. He's
discussed the incidents with listeners and hosted two programs on
tribal alcohol abuse. "It was a wake-up call," he says. "It's
something that's been with me, the struggle with alcohol. But if I
screw up again, I'll resign. They won't have to fire me. I want to be
worthy of being seen as an influential leader."
Back at Oñate Hall, McKosato readies for yet another show, shuffling
papers under a single, green-shaded light in otherwise darkened
Studio 49. "I still get nervous," he says, and he worries whether
guests will show up or listeners will call. But McKosato adds that he
always has a sure-fire back-up plan. "Any time I get into trouble, I
just open up the lines on the topic, `who's an Indian and who's not?'
The lines just light up," he says. "It's the most popular and
volatile show we do."
The author writes from Socorro, New Mexico.
To listen to the show online, or to find station affiliates, visit
www.nativeamericacalling.com.