The High-Definition Silence: One Path Network Leadership's Silence on Islamist Extremism and Radicalism in (Australian) Islam

 The High-Definition Silence: One Path Network  Leadership's Silence on Islamist Extremism and Radicalism  in (Australian) Islam

Adis Duderija

In the landscape of modern Australian discourse, few digital entities command as much cultural real estate as the OnePath Network (OPN). With a professional studio in Sydney, over 1,500 produced videos, and a staggering 600 million views across its platforms, OPN has successfully positioned itself as the premier "values-based" guide for the nation’s Muslim youth. Its aesthetic is indistinguishable from high-end mainstream media—sharp editing, cinematic lighting, and a polished, relatable tone. Yet, beneath this high-definition veneer lies a persistent and troubling silence. Despite its massive reach, the leadership behind OnePath continues to fail in the most critical duty of any contemporary religious authority: the honest acknowledgment and active dismantling of Islamist radicalism and extremism.

This failure is not merely a logistical oversight; it is a structural byproduct of the salafi worldview the network inhabits. By prioritising a specific strain of Salafi-inflected identity politics and often elevating "celebrity preachers" over rigorous scholarship, OnePath has created a digital echo chamber that effectively immunizes its audience against the self-critique necessary to combat radicalization. As long as the network remains silent on the internal ideological drivers of extremism, it remains a passive facilitator of the very "Us vs. Them" binary that groups on the fringe exploit.

The Megaphone for the Firebrand

The most visible evidence of this failure is OnePath’s role as a primary megaphone for controversial firebrands like Mohamed Hoblos. While the network packages Hoblos as a "heart-softening" orator, his rhetoric frequently strays into territory that is deeply antithetical to social cohesion and intellectual moderation. Hoblos has infamously utilized a "fire and brimstone" approach that reduces complex faith to a series of hyper-literalist ultimatums.

In one of his most widely criticized assertions, Hoblos suggested that a person who commits heinous crimes—including murder or rape—is "better" in the eyes of God than a person who misses their daily prayers. This is not merely a theological debate over the importance of ritual; it is a dangerous moral inversion. When a platform with OPN’s metrics validates such rhetoric, it provides a veneer of respectability to a worldview where religious observance cancels out fundamental human ethics. By platforming such voices without context or pushback, OnePath reinforces a mindset where the "out-group" (the non-believer or the "lax" believer) is inherently morally inferior, regardless of their actions. This is the exact psychological soil in which the seeds of radicalization take root.

The Lure of the Celebrity Preacher

To understand why OnePath remains silent on the problem of extremism, one must look at the "celebrity preacher" phenomenon that defines its content strategy  that I have eslewhere described  as the "lure of Muslim celebrity preachers", a trend where emotional appeal and "street cred" replace theological depth.

I have argued that these influencers often inhabit a "neo-traditionalist" space that is deeply suspicious of the West and obsessed with identity markers. OnePath’s leadership has mastered this commodification of faith. They understand that outrage and "victimhood narratives" drive engagement. By focusing almost exclusively on external grievances—such as Islamophobia or Western foreign policy—while remaining silent on the theological perversions within the Islamist movement, they maintain their popularity at the expense of communal safety.

This celebrity culture prioritizes the feeling of being a "true believer" over the responsibility of being a citizen in a pluralistic society. These preachers often lack formal, rigorous scholarly training, relying instead on charismatic delivery to peddle a binary world-view. For OnePath, to acknowledge the problem of Islamist extremism would mean having to critique the very literalist and exclusionary frameworks that their most popular stars rely upon. Silence, therefore, becomes a survival strategy for their brand.

The Vacuum of Internal Critique

The leadership’s refusal to engage with the reality of radicalization is an abdication of moral authority. In the Australian context, where religiously motivated violent extremism  remains a concern for security agencies, a media network with a million subscribers has an obligation to be a firewall. Instead, OnePath often acts as a bypass.

 This creates a vacuum where young, vulnerable individuals are never taught to recognize the warning signs of extremist ideology because their primary source of guidance refuses to admit those signs even exist.

When OnePath remains silent on the ideological lineage that connects Salafi-literalism to Islamist militancy, they leave their audience defenseless against more predatory actors. 

The sheer scale of OnePath’s metrics—its 773,000 Instagram followers and millions of monthly views—is often used by its leadership to claim a mandate as the voice of Australian Islam. However, popularity is not a proxy for truth, nor is engagement a proxy for leadership.

The "digital caliphate" aesthetic of OPN is designed to appeal to a generation that consumes religion through Reels and TikToks. This medium favors the simplistic, the emotive, and the confrontational. OnePath has exploited this to build a brand that is "too big to fail" in the eyes of the community, yet too insular to actually lead. Their metrics suggest a community in search of identity, but their content offers only a shallow, reactionary version of it.

The concern is that this massive audience is being fed a diet of "celebrity" outrage that makes them more susceptible to the "cognitive closure" that radical groups desire. By refusing to engage in the difficult, un-viral work of deradicalization and theological reform, OnePath’s leadership is essentially guarding a gate that has already been breached.

A Call for Accountability

Leadership in the 21st century requires more than a high-end camera and a sympathetic social media algorithm. It requires the courage to look inward. The OnePath Network has proven it can talk to the world about the grievances of Muslims, but it has utterly failed to talk to Muslims about the responsibilities of faith in a modern, democratic Australia.

As long as they continue to platform preachers who prioritize ritual over human life, and as long as they remain silent on the specific ideological drivers of Islamist violence, they are failing the very people who look to them for guidance. The Australian Muslim community deserves a leadership that values depth over clicks and safety over "celebrity" status.

The polished videos and "heart-softening" talks are a distraction from the fundamental question: If the most influential Muslim media outlet in the country won't address the elephant of extremism in the room, who will? Until OnePath breaks its silence, its "values-based" mission remains a hollow exercise in brand management—a high-definition facade for a community leadership that is, quite simply, asleep at the wheel.