The fight against social injustice today is primarily one of action. Nonprofit organizations combat poverty, racism and oppression around the world, each with a specific goal to improve the lives of the disadvantaged. But Emory University alum R. Timothy Brady (’07C) works with a different tool. After graduating with a degree in music composition, Brady founded Soulbird, an organization that advocates for human rights through art and music.

“I founded Soulbird to use the arts as a vehicle for pushing human rights issues,” Brady says in a phone interview from Erbil, Iraq. “I realized how self-consuming the arts can be at times. I’m very supportive of the arts — they’re very important for the development of culture. It just felt too self-consuming for me, and I felt like to do a lot of good, I needed to branch out a little bit more. I realized the potential for communication.”

Based in Atlanta and currently run from Iraq, Soulbird organizes art shows, film festivals and concerts to raise awareness about the power that art has to bring people together. The organization curated film festivals in Romania, Iran and Poland in 2008, as well as a music workshop and concert in Iraq.

Soulbird’s mission is perhaps best exemplified, however, by its recent efforts to create a sanctum for talented young musicians like Ehab, a 25-year-old pianist from Mosul, Iraq, who are forbidden by law and culture to pursue their true passions. That sanctum, the Soulbird American Academy of Kurdistan, which offers music and language lessons, opened in November 2009.

“[Ehab] can’t practice piano and he can’t go to school. A lot of his artist friends have been killed,” Brady says. “We’re working on bringing Ehab to Erbil, where he can study English for free, he can practice piano and hopefully just find a safe place where he can learn and develop his craft.”

Aspiring Iraqi musicians, filmmakers and artists worldwide face constant obstacles in their fight for freedom of expression. Islam has strict regulations for many forms of contemporary art, and some sects prohibit music altogether. Groups like the Iraqi Artists Association (IAA) work to provide young artists with the resources they need and a safe environment in which to pursue their passions. Like IAA, Soulbird strives to bring Iraqi artists the freedom that their Western counterparts enjoy today.

Young artists like Ehab may find a haven at Soulbird’s academy. The school offers classes in language and the arts, and serves as a base for some of Soulbird’s human rights efforts in Iraq.

Students can also learn introductory filmmaking skills, thanks to Soulbird’s partnership with Campus Movie Fest (CMF), a student film festival founded eight years ago by four Emory students and currently the world’s largest. CMF provides the organization with Apple computers, video cameras and other needed supplies.

Operating a school and a nonprofit in Iraq is a far cry from philanthropy in the United States. Daily life in Kurdistan, one of the more tranquil regions of that fragile nation, is just as unpredictable as life in the rest of Iraq.

“Every day is different,” Brady says. “It’s a completely different environment here. You literally cannot plan for anything. Everything is on the fly.”

Brady spends much of his time abroad finessing his way into Iraq’s delicate social infrastructure to form valuable connections. It is extremely important, he explains, not to rush into an endeavor without establishing a strong local network of support. Otherwise the government, which may appear lenient one day, will smother a project with characteristic coldness the next.

“I spend most of my days talking to people in person and building relationships so that we can implement our programs,” Brady says. “Things just move here much differently than in the United States — completely different customs, completely different protocol in everything from business to going to the market.”

Brady surely did not anticipate such a drastic shift in lifestyle when he first considered founding a nonprofit. He only knew that the potential of art to make actual change in the world was too strong to ignore, and he saw a chance to combine this idea of active expression with his lifelong interest in social justice.

“I was involved from the get-go at Oxford [College] — not just with music, but with sociology,” he said. “I helped organize human rights events on campus. I always knew that I’d be doing something with social justice and the arts.”

While Soulbird does its part to incite direct change wherever it operates — which, in addition to the Middle East, includes Eastern Europe and Northeast Africa — the organization’s main goal is to teach the disadvantaged to help themselves. The organization’s operations act more as starting points for social transformation than as constant backing for it.

In some ways, Brady must maintain the same independence from Soulbird as the native people it aids. He earns a living reporting for The Kurdish Globe, a weekly newspaper printed in Erbil.

“We’re all volunteers,” he says. “I don’t get paid from Soulbird. I get paid from odd jobs, like being a reporter. Part of what we’re able to do, and what we’re only able to do because of our limited resources, is to be a kind of catalyst for inspiration.”

Brady emphasizes the importance of getting involved regardless of the venue. He feels that while graduate school and direct immersion in the job market have their benefits, it is better to aim for real-world experience and a true global education after college.

“The biggest thing you can do is get out there into the world,” he says. “Don’t look for someone else to give you your opportunity. Go out there and make the opportunity for yourself. If you’re interested in social justice, try to figure out if you’re interested in a specific region of the world, and find out how you can get there. You can’t put a value over real world education and just being out there.”

Brady’s journey and the success of Soulbird are the embodiment of this relationship between sheer willingness to help and actual social change. Three years ago, Soulbird was just a figment of Brady’s passion for human rights. Now, thanks to his drive, a young Iraqi pianist’s fingers will be touching ivory instead of prison cell bars. And that, as Brady truly knows, is social justice.

— Contact Ari Comart