Nationalism, Albert Einstein said, is “an infantile sickness. It is the measles of the human race.” He had an axe to grind, of course, having watched the rise of national socialism in Germany, but after a year of close proximity to Scottish Nationalism, I've noticed this little rash spreading across my chest. I am beginning to wonder if Einstein had a point.

No one doubts the energising effect that a leader of strong conviction can have. Alex Salmond, leader of the Scottish National Party, and First Minister of a markedly more resilient country, has injected a note of jaunty self-confidence into a lacklustre political scene; it has been the hallmark of his first term in office, and it would, if translated into votes tomorrow, see him returned to office with a substantial majority, giving him the moral support needed to achieve, eventually, independence.

But when jauntiness begins to shade into arrogance, and the self-confidence is unmasked as self-interest, one is entitled to ask whether this nationalism is as benign as he would like to pretend.

Next year a rather heart-sinking promotional exercise called The Homecoming, is being launched. It was a Labour idea originally, but the SNP has embraced it with enthusiasm. They want to tap into the Scottish diaspora and encourage exiles to travel back to the land of their roots. Nothing wrong with that, except for the heavily loaded publicity that talks of wanting either “blood” Scots or “heart” Scots to respond to the call. I am not quite sure what this sanguinary language actually means, but presumably you qualify either through DNA or through some arcane test of your affection for the motherland.

Either way, there is a hint of exclusivity here, suggesting a narrow sort of nationalism, the kind that warms to its own kind rather than others. I would put this down to paranoia on my part, except that it reflects some harder political positions that have begun to emerge in recent months. They suggest a selfish and introverted political agenda that favours the short-term interests of the nation against the wider needs of the international world. Wherever there is a global crisis - climate, energy, food, fuel, defence or the economy - the SNP looks to the interests of its own people rather than those beyond its borders.

It is against nuclear energy, opposing the construction of any new nuclear power stations north of the Border, whatever contribution they may make in the future to reducing carbon emissions and combating global warming; it is adamantly against the introduction of genetically modified crops, however far their adapatability and higher production rates may go to meet the needs of the starving in the Third World; it loses no opportunity to point out the potential advantages of rising oil prices to an independent Scotland, whatever the cost to the global economy.

Here is its Treasury spokesman on the subject: “As an oil producing country, Scotland should be enjoying the benefits of record oil prices rather than feeling the pain. With control of oil, Scotland would be the third-richest country in EU in wealth per head...”

It is in favour of wind energy, but not if turbines are to be built in areas where their unpopularity may threaten SNP-held seats; it is against the stationing of nuclear submarines in Scottish waters, but delighted to welcome the jobs that go with a multibillion-pound aircraft carrier programme; it is happy to pronounce on the benefits to Scotland of belonging to the European Union, but intends to rengotiate the Common Fisheries Policy, which lies at the heart of the Treaty of Rome and is intended to conserve North Sea fishing stocks. The SNP's policies amount, in short, to having its cake and eating it.

It is on Scottish culture, however - where modern nationalism should surely be broadening its horizons - that the SNP looks most parochial. The year of The Homecoming could have emphasised Scotland's place in the international world - the way that its writers and artists have broken free of domestic constraints; the international status of its festivals; the impact of its theatre, dance and art across the world; the flowering of its architecture - the things that emphasise how far the country has advanced from the tired old images that hold it back - the “tartan monster” as Tom Nairn once called it, that plods so wearily in its wake.

Instead, you will find page after page of pipeband championships, Highland gatherings, clan reunions, celebrations of tartan, tributes to “the bard”, as Robert Burns is always called, recitals in Gaelic and Scots, the familiar plethora of Scottish folklore. The pictures all show big white men in kilts.

Predictable, unadventurous, backward-looking, and self-centred. This is the image that the Nationalists appear to favour.

Whether you are of the blood or the heart, this is a Scotland of the past, not the future, and it is not a particularly welcoming place to find yourself in. “Everything in the State, nothing outside the State, nothing against the State,” is the slogan that comes to mind. Mussolini said that.

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