Paul H Scott explains why most foreigners believe Scotland to be a part of England

IN this newspaper on January 2 there was a report about Thomas Glover, the Scot who in the last century played a major part in introducing industry to Japan. Two Scottish residents had succeeded in having his nationality on a memorial plaque changed from English to Scottish. One of them remarked: ''British is not a concept the Japanese understand. Where we would use the word, British, they substitute English.''

Of course, it is not only the Japanese who are confused. The confusion began much closer to home and centuries ago. In England itself the terms English and British are habitually treated as synonymous. If the English cannot grasp the distinction, we cannot expect other countries to see the point. In most other languages the word which is the equivalent of England is generally applied to the whole island. Scotland has become so invisible internationally that it is hardly ever mentioned at all. We are all accustomed to this and irritated by it, but how much does it matter?

The first point is that the confusion applies even in contexts where precision is important. Take, for instance, a book which has recently been published in translation, Europe: A Cultural History, by Peter Rietbergen, who is a professor of cultural history in the Netherlands. He refers to James Macpherson, the translator or author of Ossian, as an ''English poet'' and to Adam Smith as an ''English economic theorist''. Both of these men, and Macpherson in particular, are so much the product of their Scottish background that it is highly misleading to look at them as part of an English tradition. The book refers to Hume and Livingstone as Scots, but there is no reference at all to all the other Scots who have made important contributions to civilisation.

We may find it difficult to believe that the outside world knows so little about us. Most of us are confident in our identity. We have the impression that there are Scottish symbols which are recognised all over the world. This means such things as tartan, the pipes, and whisky: but they do not help us much if the world has been taught to regard them as English. There is plenty of evidence of the extent to which Scotland is invisible to many people. Margaret Bennett, in her recent book about Scottish Gaelic settlers in Quebec, says that many French Canadians ''have never even heard of Scotland''. In the Times Literary Supplement, Ian Bamford tells us that ''Scotland has no recognised identity in Europe''. I have been told that post offices in America will not accept mail addressed to Scotland because it does not exist in their reference books.

This state of affairs has, of course, practical economic effects. Importers are unlikely to buy goods from a country which is unknown to them. Tourists are unlikely to find us by mere chance.

Certainly there are some enlightened people everywhere who are interested in Scotland but, as long as they are a minority, the prom-oters of ''Scotland the brand'' and of the Scottish tourist industry will have an uphill struggle. Robert Burns understood the reason. ''What are all the boasted advantages which my country reaps from a certain union,'' he asked in a letter, ''that can counterbalance the annihilation of her independence and even her very name?'' The Union deprived Scotland of an international identity and name. To the outside world we became part of England. Only independent countries can take part in international relationships and attract recognition. The restoration of the Scottish Parliament is a step in the right direction but, until we are independent, we shall remain largely invisible to the world.

n Paul Scott uses Burns' phrase, The Boasted Advantages, as the title for his forthcoming book, which is a study of the

consequences of the Union.