Tourism is not the only lens through which Theft explores neocolonialism. The novel also examines the impact of Western individualism and consumerism on postcolonial societies, suggesting that the exportation of such ideologies erodes tradition and community, with destructive consequences.

Hawa, whose childhood ambition is to be “rich and pretty and to travel to Switzerland” (112), provides an early example of this dynamic. Following a trip to the more globalized mainland, Hawa develops a fascination with Western culture. She returns with magazines—symbols of consumerism depicting “limousines,” “pools,” and expensive clothing she asks her mother to recreate—and begins listening to “British pop.” She begins speaking English almost exclusively, a change that puzzles Fauzia but that she associates with the pervasive influence of Western culture:

Maybe it was the magazines in the British Council Reading Room, […] maybe it was the tourists that provoked Hawa, or maybe it was the films on TV, or the serials from the United States with their paved and glittering city streets and the gilded vaulted halls into which American people strode. Or maybe it was footage of crowds of half-naked dancers in low-lit clubs whose flashing teeth and flying hair made Fauzia feel as if she was a deprived creature who lived underground. It was not difficult to be seduced by all that (114).

Western materialism and pop culture thus shape Hawa’s aspirations in ways that estrange her from those around her and that Fauzia, at least, perceives as pernicious—a form of “seduction” that engenders contempt for one’s own history and culture.

It is through Karim, however, that the novel most fully explores the consequences of this alienation. Karim’s move into an international, professional world happens in tandem with the breakdown of his family and the erosion of his integrity. His first-class degree, his new position in a European Union-funded development project, and his training in Denmark all signal an entry into a global elite. His affair with Geraldine Bruno, a British volunteer, mirrors this shift. The relationship marks a turn away from his life with Fauzia and their infant daughter, Nasra, toward a version of cosmopolitan identity that he sees as more open and less demanding. He uses the rhetoric of self-empowerment to justify his ultimate abandonment of his domestic responsibilities, saying, “I have learned not to be afraid. I have learned to take my life in my own hands, to look to the future without fear” (287-88). His words reveal that Karim has internalized an ideal of personal freedom and ambition that is not only at odds with traditional values of communal responsibility, but also does not apply equally to all; Karim’s pursuit of his desires leads him to Geraldine’s apartment, where his presence as an African man becomes a source of suspicion. There is thus irony in his belief that his actions are gestures of self-liberation. Rather, Gurnah suggests, they enmesh him further in a neocolonialist system that treats him as inferior and disposable.

Badar’s path offers a different stance toward neocolonialism. Badar does not insulate himself from the changes that surround him; he trains at the Tamarind Hotel and thus works in the heart of the tourism industry. However, his work does not fundamentally reorder his priorities. Karim mocks Badar for “skivvying in that derelict hotel” and showing no ambition (286), but the novel suggests that this is the most pragmatic response to globalization: taking advantage of the economic opportunities it provides but retaining connection to ideals of family and community.