“Mary […] remarked almost offhandedly that America had begun as a colony and that a colony it remained, that is, a place still defined by its plunder, where enrichment was paramount and civil order always an afterthought.”

Though America prides itself on being one of the greatest civilizations in the world, Professor Moroni points out that it cannot seem to move past its colonialist roots—its early days of conquering others to possess what they had. The term “plunder,” usually associated with pirates, gives America a lawless, self-important identity in which people come second to money.

“I wouldn’t see what she saw back then until I’d failed at trying to see it otherwise, until I’d ceased believing in the lie of my own redemption, until the suffering of others aroused in me a starker, clearer cry than any anthem to my own longing.”

As a young man in college, Ayad’s rose-colored glasses force him to see America as a land of opportunity for any and all; he cannot understand his professor’s critique of the country he loves. With age comes experience, and it isn’t until he learns to listen to those mistreated by the government that he realizes his country has work to do.

“I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t expect you to support me. But in ten years, you’ll look back on this, you both will, and you’ll see that I made a great investment.”

Ayad’s father, Sikander, thinks ownership of property (in this case, that of a gas station) constitutes the American Dream. Even though he knows nothing about gas stations, he believes owning something of value is what defines an American. Ironically, he is right: Many of Ayad’s friends confirm that America puts more stock in profit over human satisfaction.