u/Amir_Hassain

One thing that stands out to me about some anti-modernist arguments made by Muslims is the contradiction between what is criticized and the societies people choose to live in.

Some Muslims strongly criticize modern Western society, yet if given the choice, many would still rather live in wealthy, developed European countries than in poorer or less stable countries closer to the traditional systems they praise. Even some anti-modernist Muslims already living in Europe seem to have little interest in permanently moving back to their countries of origin.

That raises an obvious question: if modern societies are supposedly so morally flawed, why are they consistently the preferred places to live, work, raise families, and build futures?

The usual answer is economic opportunity, stability, welfare systems, healthcare, infrastructure, and higher living standards. But that only strengthens the point. Those benefits are largely products of modern institutions, scientific advancement, economic development, and political systems that anti-modernists often criticize.

If these countries were not wealthy, developed, and modernized, many of the same people benefiting from them would likely not want to live there at all.

That is the contradiction: rejecting modernity in theory while depending on its results in practice.

One hadith that has always seemed logically inconsistent to me is the one where a young man asks Muhammad for permission to commit zina (fornication), and Muhammad responds by asking him how he would feel if someone did the same with his mother, sister, daughter, or other female relatives.

The argument is clearly designed to provoke disgust and emotional discomfort. But the problem is that the reasoning becomes questionable once you look at the broader Islamic framework surrounding sexuality.

Islam permits sexual relations within marriage, and classical Islamic law also permitted sexual relations with concubines or female slaves. Early Muslims lived within that system. So why frame the idea of women having sex as inherently shameful or dishonorable when Islam itself allows women to have lawful sexual relationships through marriage and, historically, through concubinage under their owners?

The argument seems to rely less on a universal moral principle and more on emotional possessiveness over female relatives. Instead of explaining why zina is morally wrong in a deeper philosophical sense, the hadith appeals to instinctive male jealousy and family honor.

That creates a contradiction in the logic. If the issue is specifically unlawful sex outside Islamic boundaries, then the response should focus on consent, ethics, or social consequences—not on emotionally weaponizing the idea of one’s female relatives being sexually involved with men.

The more this hadith is examined, the more the argument appears rooted in tribal honor psychology rather than a timeless moral explanation from a supposedly universal prophet.

One of the biggest problems I see with Islamic prayer is that most Muslims pray five times a day in Arabic despite not actually understanding the language. Millions spend years memorizing and repeating phrases phonetically, yet many could not fully explain the meaning of everything they recite during prayer.

If prayer is supposed to be a sincere and conscious connection with God, then understanding should matter. Repeating words you do not understand over and over can easily become mechanical rather than meaningful.

What makes this even more questionable is that, in Islam, a prayer can still be considered valid even if the person reciting it does not understand the Arabic being spoken. As long as the words are recited correctly, comprehension is not required. That makes Islamic prayer seem more focused on correct ritual performance than genuine understanding.

I have also noticed that many Muslims appear eager to finish prayer as quickly as possible, almost as if it is an obligation to complete rather than a deeply personal spiritual experience. That is not surprising when people are required to repeatedly recite phrases in a language foreign to them. Without understanding, prayer can easily start to feel dull, repetitive, and emotionally disconnected.

That raises a deeper question: why would a universal religion center its most important act of worship around a language most of its followers do not understand? A truly universal God would seem more likely to prioritize comprehension, reflection, and personal connection rather than strict repetition in one specific language.

If these prayers were completely optional rather than obligatory, it is difficult to believe that most Muslims would still choose to pray five times a day in a language they do not understand. The heavy emphasis on obligation and ritual repetition makes the practice seem less like natural communication and more like a system followed primarily because it is required.

The more this is examined, the more Islamic prayer can appear less like meaningful communication and more like ritualized memorization detached from understanding.

Something that has never made sense to me about Ibrahim (Abraham) is the issue of his name.

People do not choose their own names at birth—their parents choose them. According to Islamic tradition, Ibrahim’s father was a polytheist, and his mother was most likely a polytheist as well. That means two non-Muslim parents would have been responsible for naming him.

So why does he end up with what Muslims today consider an Arabic Islamic name?

Ibrahim was not Arab. He lived long before Islam and long before the Qur’an was revealed in Arabic. Historically, his name would not literally have been “Ibrahim” as pronounced in Arabic today. The same applies to names like Musa, Isa, and Nuh.

This makes it seem as though the Qur’an is retroactively presenting earlier non-Arab figures through an Arabic-Islamic lens, giving them Arabicized names that can create the impression they were culturally connected to Islam in the later Arabic sense.

At minimum, it shows that these names were adapted into Arabic later on rather than preserved in their original historical form.

So when Muslims hear names like Ibrahim or Musa, are they hearing the prophets’ actual historical names—or Arabic religious reinterpretations of them?