THE Koran devotes whole verses to inheritance, and Muslim scholars have spent centuries ruling on what they mean. Beji Caid Essebsi, the Tunisian president, is not happy with their conclusions. Under his country’s law, derived from Islamic jurisprudence, a daughter receives half of what a son inherits. Mr Essebsi has asked parliament to equalise it. Not content with one controversy, he also wants to let Muslim women marry non-Muslim men—a forbidden act in every school of Islam.

His announcements drew a furious reaction from many clerics, not just in Tunisia but across the region. The proposals will probably face months, if not years, of debate. Still, even putting them on the agenda was another in a summer of victories for Arab women. On August 16th Lebanon abolished a law that let rapists dodge punishment if they married their victims. Jordan did the same this month, and closed a separate loophole that allowed lighter sentences for “honour killings”. Tunisia scrapped its “marry your rapist” law in July.

Similar laws are still on the books in half a dozen other Arab countries, from Algeria to Kuwait. They often have wide support. A survey released in May by the UN and Promundo, an advocacy group, found that even in relatively liberal Morocco 60% of men—and 48% of women—believe a rape victim should marry her attacker. But Morocco nonetheless did away with its own law in 2014, after the suicide of a teenager who was forced into such a marriage.

Credit is due largely to the women’s rights groups that have sprouted across the Arab world. In Lebanon, they put up posters of women in tattered gowns, with slogans like “a white dress doesn’t cover up rape.” In Jordan, they hung wedding dresses from nooses. They have also helped steer more women into politics. Last year Jordan elected 20 women to its 130-member parliament, the highest number ever. (There is a minimum quota of 15.) Lebanon, though, has a paltry four.

Tunisia has long been a regional leader. Habib Bourguiba, the dictator from 1957 to 1987, tried to secularise the state by fiat. He banned the headscarf from public institutions, outlawed polygamy and gave women the right to divorce. Today women are about 27% of the workforce—much lower than in the West, but higher than in most other Arab countries. Many are well educated; they often work in fields such as law and medicine. Nearly one-third of Tunisia’s legislature is female, a larger share than in Italy or Australia. The law overturning the rape loophole, which also criminalised sexual harassment in public, passed by a unanimous vote.

But Bourguiba also made some concessions to religion. He approved an inheritance law that comes directly from a Koranic verse: “for the male, the share of two females.” A former religious-affairs minister said that this language was unequivocal and could be “neither modified nor reinterpreted”. Al-Azhar University in Cairo, the Sunni world’s most prestigious centre of learning, said Mr Essebsi’s proposed changes would not be “fair and just” to women. Even some female MPs oppose his plan, particularly those from Ennahda, the moderate Islamist party that controls a third of the legislature. “It’s a much harder step [than previous reforms],” says Wafa Ben Hassine, a Tunisian activist and former parliamentary aide.

Mr Essebsi has asked MPs to study the issue in a committee. Supporters say they should also debate broader changes to family law, which considers a man the head of the household—he is expected to use his larger share of the inheritance to provide for his kin. But an equal system that works in Tunis, the capital, may be unpopular in rural areas, where a family’s wealth is often tied up in farmland that provides lifelong income. “We must allow people to choose the system they want,” says Ms Ben Hassine. “But as we are now, we’re forcing this on everybody.”