In Bankstown, you could pass the Al Madina Dawah Center without even looking at it. The storefront is just another place to pray tucked away in a Sydney suburb; nothing particularly noteworthy about it. However, Wissam Haddad has created an environment that is remarkably well-documented in police briefings, court documents, and terror investigations.
Haddad, who frequently goes by Abu Ousayd, is a person who regularly causes tension in the Muslim community at large and uneasiness in law enforcement circles. His associations and public sermons reveal a conservative, inflexible, and intensely political hardline Salafi attitude. His name has come up again and time again in situations involving people accused of terrorist offenses. Nevertheless, he has managed to avoid being charged with a serious crime.
He is not a lone extremist figure. He has appeared in recordings of street preaching with IS followers who have since been found guilty. Some of the most infamous figures in Australia’s Islamist scene used to congregate in his bookstore. Among them was Khaled Sharrouf, whose unsettling image of his child clutching a severed head from Syria went viral in 2015. Before passing away in Syria in 2012, Sheik Mustapha al Majzoub, another, delivered sermons at Haddad’s center.
A video from a day of mass shootings in Menai in 2012 shows Haddad grinning next to young men like Ahmed Elomar, the brother of another IS warrior who was killed. The words on the screen mockingly praised their gun accuracy. It probably looked like teenage bravado at the time. It seems much more deliberate in retrospect.
| Name | Wissam Haddad |
|---|---|
| Also Known As | Abu Ousayd |
| Location | Bankstown, Western Sydney |
| Known For | Salafi cleric with ties to Islamic extremists |
| Legal Issues | Found guilty of racial vilification; no terrorism convictions |
| Notable Links | Connected to multiple individuals convicted of terror offenses |
| Ongoing Scrutiny | Mentioned in court cases, police files, and public controversy |
| Source Link | The Guardian – Wissam Haddad coverage |
By 2014, counter-terrorism officials were uncomfortably aware that the same preaching groups were responsible for an increasing proportion of their cases. Court transcripts from a foiled terror plan made direct mention of Haddad. “IM,” an adolescent conspirator, asked another if they should “make banana here or there.” Their code word for guns was banana. Haddad was said to be “right here,” as though getting his blessing was the last stage before taking any action.
Haddad inspired without overtly advocating violence by using well-crafted words and smart preaching. He has probably been protected by that ambiguity. Three of his lectures were judged to have violated the Racial Discrimination Act in 2025 by a Federal Court due to their antisemitic content. It wasn’t terrorism, though. It was hate speech, but it fell under a different legal heading.
He has not been accused of being a member of IS and has continuously denied any association with the group. He has only been convicted of one crime: the discovery of illicit firearms during a raid. However, contact with him has been prohibited for anyone freed from prison for terror-related acts. Even though prosecutors haven’t managed to make it stick, courts acknowledge his effect.
Haddad is especially challenging to classify because of how frequently he manifests himself in an oblique manner. Haddad has previously openly supported a book he suggested in the case of Radwan Dakkak, a young man who was later found guilty due to his ties to IS. A jihadist expert wrote the book, which described the “shock” value of terror and the purported advantages of suicide attacks. Haddad only wrote, “a very good book,” on Facebook.
Haddad frequently uses language that is a bit too delicate and purposefully vague in his public persona. Haddad defended himself when questioned about one of the Bondi Beach assailants, Naveed Akram, by pointing out that there was no verified photo of the two of them together. It’s a well-written line. Meetings, phone conversations, and shared following are not mentioned. Just about pictures.
At one point, I had to read his remark twice in order to understand what wasn’t expressed, not for clarification.
Haddad has slightly changed his concentration in recent years. He used to be a Salafi doctrinal critic of Hamas, but these days he speaks passionately about Gaza and attracts sizable audiences to marches and demonstrations. It’s a development rather than a contradiction, and many Muslims view it as a tactical shift. In the face of mounting public pressure, he has remained relevant and safeguarded his position by publicly supporting Palestine.
Haddad has been incredibly successful at staying ahead of enforcement operations because of his flexibility. Two senior Muslim members were informed in a private meeting with NSW Police that closing Haddad’s center would lose them a “intel goldmine,” according to an account that continues to circulate among community leaders. There was no doubt about the message: it was preferable to observe the bees than to destroy the hive.
They may have gained time with their tactical patience, but there were repercussions as well. “All the police keep doing is arresting the kids he radicalizes and leaving him out there,” one of those leaders later said. It’s a scathing indictment of Haddad and the institution that was supposed to control his power.
Critics find it especially annoying that there is no speculation in the case against Haddad. You may watch his lectures online. There is proof that he attended rallies. His network is extensive and frequently clearly overlaps with people who are subsequently prosecuted or found guilty. Nevertheless, his legal status is unaffected.
This goes beyond criminal culpability. It has to do with cultural responsibility. About knowing when, even in the absence of explicit commands, influence turns into action. And about how cultures safeguard free speech while making sure it doesn’t turn into a vehicle for spreading hate.
