Why not sell Scotland to the Scots, Mr Salmond?

No, it is not a Fast Show skit but Scotland Week, that time of year when pockets of the US and Canada are proclaimed forever Scottish, or Scottish for the next seven days at any rate. Being a Scottish event, it has of course caused a stushie.

The First Minister and his entourage flew out this week. Also visiting is a delegation from the Scottish Parliament. Anyone would think the taxpayer was giving away free holidays to America.

The budget for the Scottish Government's Scotland Week is a cool £360,000. Accommodation-wise, we can probably assume no-one is slumming it in a walk-up in the Bronx. Whatever hotel has been booked it is unlikely to satisfy the demands of the opposition, who would probably complain if Mr Salmond was sleeping on a Central Park bench. One can hear the gripes now. "Covering himself with a copy of the New York Times when the Post is cheaper? Scandalous."

What has got the tartan boxers of the Tories and Labour in a twist is not the usual capers in Manhattan. Since the first Tartan Day parade in 1999 the event has been not so much celebrated at home as politely noted. Like the Queen on an official visit, we have smiled indulgently on celebs donning the kilt and playing Braveheart for an afternoon. Every little helps when it comes to punting Scotland abroad. In its time, the event has added to the gaiety of the nation in other ways. Even now, the memory of Jack McConnell, then First Minister, standing on a Manhattan pavement wearing what was meant to be a kilt and traditional shirt but looked like a mini-skirt and blouse, is enough to brighten the bleakest of days. What he did for exports is unclear – it always is with Scotland Week – but he certainly made middle-aged cross dressers everywhere feel better about themselves.

Apart from the idea of the First Minister being in New York while they are at home with the kids, the opposition doesn't mind the concept of Tartan Week as long as it sticks to the script of vaguely punting Scotland. This year, however, Mr Salmond stands accused of selling the idea of Scottish independence besides. Given Americans over there won't be able to vote over here come 2014, one might wonder why the opposition is so annoyed. Oh, but they are. James Kelly, Scottish Labour's chief whip, said the trip should be used to talk about investment and jobs, "not bang the drum for independence at the taxpayers' expense". The Scottish Tories sang a similar song, calling the trip to America one of the First Minister's "jollies".

Mr Salmond can doubtless chew the fat about all sorts and talk trade and investment at the same time, but this is, indeed, a heavily political trip, with speeches raising such topics as "the economic viability and credibility of an independent Scotland" and "the values and principles that would shape a modern, independent Scotland". See a theme emerging?

Scotland is still finding its feet when it comes to selling itself abroad. After decades of practice, we've got the shortbread tin schtick down to a fine art. If a visitor is in the market for swirling mists and heather, clans, battlefields, and the like, we can oblige (as long as they don't call in after 2pm when the kitchen is shut). But if they are looking for something more nuanced and contemporary, the pickings are slimmer. There is always Edinburgh at festival time, but that is more the world coming to Scotland than vice versa.

From Hume to Smith and many a point in between, Scotland was once the purveyor of ideas to the world. In that sense, it is satisfying to know we still have it in us to go abroad and talk the talk, and America is as fine a place as any if independence is the subject. Mr Salmond might as well be selling coals to Cheryl Cole. In presidential proclamation 8233, setting up National Tartan Day, George W Bush (yes, afraid so) drew attention to the many ways the two nations' paths have converged. From the Declaration of Arbroath to the founding fathers, from Carnegie to golf, the many shared ties of Scotland and America were noted and praised.

Viewed from that angle, Mr Salmond's speeches are fitting. Some of us, moreover, would far rather a fledgling Scottish foreign policy was built on trade in ideas and aspirations than waiting for those poor pandas to mate (what a grisly pastime that is turning out to be: so much for giving dignity to animals in captivity). And America, now that Mr Bush has gone, is a far better nation to cuddle up with than some we could mention (clue: the Edinburgh Zoo Two hail from there). At least on visits to Barack Obama's America no-one need bring up such tricky matters as human rights. Other problematic areas – defence being the chief one – can also be avoided if the chat sticks to such motherhood and apple pie subjects as freedom and the right of the people to rule themselves. On many a count, independence has a lot going for it as a way for Scotland to sell itself to the world.

Here's the rub, though. The independence referendum is more than a year away. Scotland has not yet had its say. In that sense, Mr Salmond is indeed, as we say in the old country, "at it". In commercial terms, he is asking prospective customers – America, Canada, and the rest – to place advance orders for goods that have not yet been made. It is his domestic strategy on independence gone global.

It is a clever enough tactic and one Scots, wherever they are, are canny enough to see through. American audiences will listen politely to Mr Salmond, but Scotland's future is only one of a myriad of pulse points on that nation's radar. More pertinently, now that Mr Salmond is in the mood to give speeches on independence, perhaps he could give a few more at home. Homecoming is not just for tourists, First Minister.