(December 12, 2013 at 9:14 pm)paulpablo Wrote:(December 12, 2013 at 8:46 pm)cato123 Wrote: Paulpablo,
You're still not understanding. Even though the behavior described is almost entirely contained in Islamic countries/cultures you are stating that the divine basis for the culture expressly prohibits the behavior engaged in by Islam's most ardent followers. Nobody can be this dense, I think you are just being coy.
If I take your word that Islam doesn't condone the behavior described, then what does that say about Islam's ability to influence the behavior of its professed believers? Impotent comes to mind. If Muslims can't follow the rules then the expectation that others see the light and join the fold is simply unrealistic.
You're saying that it's only islamic cultures where men see it as an excuse to rape women because they aren't covering up, this isn't really true as a lot of rapists or sex offenders blame the victim in some way.
You shouldn't take my word for it that Islam doesn't condone rape in anyway, I'm saying in all my time researching and arguing against Islam I've never thought a good argument would be that Islam condones rape, because I haven't seen that anywhere ever, in any Islamic document.
And I don't believe Islam does have a very good ability to influence the behavior of people I never said it does.
There are verses in the quran telling men what to wear aswell as women.
Paulpablo I know it is not in Qur'an, it is just a teaching exclusive to muslims. Many aslo teach that I wife cannot leave the house without her husbands permission
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
