Why have we failed to notice the European Union’s referendum?

The screensaver on my computer shows an 18th century painting of the Thames river crossing that gave its name to today's Horseferry Road. With its disorderly congestion and still recognisably London backdrop, the depiction bears a striking resemblance to the pictures of this week's delightful fracas between the rival flotillas of Nigel Farage (Leave) and Bob Geldof (Remain).

Why did we have to wait so long for time out from the serious business of the referendum campaign?

But the two scenes are not only visually similar, they are deceptive in the same way. The focus might be on a little local difficulty, but the distant City skyline – much altered, of course – the plethora of other craft, and the shadows of Parliament and Lambeth Palace hint at the much bigger world of which this fragment of London constitutes a vital part.

Amid the daily rough and tumble of the referendum campaign, attention has mostly, and inevitably, fixed on the UK.

The intervention by Mark Carney this week was an exception. It raised Brexiteers' hackles because it yanked the economy (a Remain strength) back into the spotlight, after a couple of weeks dominated by migration. But his remarks achieved something else as well. By mentioning plans for what might be termed “the day after”, he supplied a timely reminder that the referendum has implications far beyond our own shores. It is not a little local issue, even if campaigners and voters on both sides might see it in this narrow, national way.

Of course, it is our referendum; of course, we will vote next Thursday in what we perceive to be our own self-interest. But the outcome will be about much more than us.

The natural introspection of the campaign has led perhaps to an underestimate of how intently, and with what trepidation, the rest of the world is watching. Early appeals from the likes of President Obama, Chancellor Merkel and others have been largely forgotten.

Such calls anyway had their pluses and minuses: they could be seen alternatively as friendly advice or intrusion. Foreign embassies in London (and elsewhere) are under strict instructions to say nothing that might possibly be judged as rocking the boat (that is, nothing at all). The EU representations have been neither seen nor heard.

This cloak of referendum silence from around the world – yes, even from the Russians – reflects diplomatic convention. Probe a little, however, and you learn that it conceals something as well: bewilderment that such a vote is actually taking place; genuine uncertainty about the result, and deep concern about the implications – not just for us, but for them.

Come referendum night, there will hardly be an international media outlet that will not provide live coverage and commentary on the count. And while grassroots opinion in, say, the US, Russia or China, may have little awareness of the UK vote, you can bet there are people, at a very senior level in each administration, with scenarios envisaged and contingencies planned. David Cameron's “in-out referendum” on the EU has become an event of supreme international significance.

One gauge of this is the extent to which normal diplomatic and business life is now on hold. From the City and across Europe, deals are not being done; delayed until after 23 June, maybe until the autumn, maybe shelved altogether.

The exchange rate and stock exchange are both volatile, in a country that is at the centre of global business. Slovakia, which takes over the EU presidency on 1 July, has announced no plans; it all depends what happens on 23 June. The EU's Schengen visa deal with Turkey is also postponed – but is that just because it has not met all of the EU's conditions, or also due to the sensitivity around the UK's referendum?

Consider the most prominent trouble spots – Syria, Ukraine, Afghanistan – there is currently nothing doing; beyond small reactive moves, everything waits.

Seen from outside, the potential upheaval that would follow a Leave vote, or even a very close result either way, looks something like this, starting from inside and working out.

This time next week, David Cameron could have submitted his resignation. There could be a new Prime Minister, a whole new government, even a general election in the offing, with age-old party alignments in flux. The very integrity of the UK, including the Northern Ireland settlement, could be in doubt. David Cameron's deals with the EU could be null and void.

A joint statement from the French and German foreign ministers this week, essentially pledging joint action to keep the EU intact, shows how deep worries run about the future of the European Union without the UK. France would have qualms about bilateral defence cooperation. The “new” Europeans would fret about finding a new champion in the EU.

While some in Russia might see short-term gain, the Kremlin would fear the breakdown of stable economic and security structures to its west. The White House would be calculating the cost to the US of a weakened partner on its eastern flank, even as Americans become absorbed in their own electoral dramas. Perversely, perhaps, the one place that seems to be exempt from the perilous sense of a future unknown is here, the UK. Whether because of misplaced confidence, postcrisis cynicism or blind resignation, the feeling seems to be that, whatever happens, it will all be all right – or, at least, that there are no grounds for anything like panic. David Cameron himself has shown almost preternatural calm.

Such national sangfroid has much to recommend it. And whether Leave or Remain emerges victorious, the UK may well take the immediate consequences in its stride; there is something to be said for sleepwalking, rather than fighting your way, into constitutional change. THE INDEPENDENT

The very integrity of the UK, including the Northern Ireland settlement, could be in doubt.