For a man who insists football isn’t political, the Fifa boss is putting a lot of effort into into courting the most divisive politician on Earth

Gianni Infantino was 18 years old the first time he ran for office. It was a presidential election at FC Brig-Glis, the local amateur football club in the small Swiss town where he grew up. Running against two older men, and with no discernible footballing record of his own, the little red-haired kid with freckles was, unsurprisingly, the rank outsider in the race.

But he had a vision. He had a ferocious work ethic, boundless enthusiasm, well-established networks in the town’s Italian immigrant community. And even at this tender age, he had a flair for an eye-catching scheme. To the shock of many veterans at the club, Infantino surged to victory: partly on the back of his pledge to attract new sponsors and revenue streams, and partly on something more tangible. Infantino promised that if he won, his mother Maria would wash all the players’ kits, every week, for as long as he was president.

The US hasn’t just left Ukraine vulnerable; it is also provoking Xi’s intensifying attitude towards what he considers a renegade province

Sheer ignorance, fed by malign intent, historical prejudice and mutual misunderstanding, is often the crucial spark that ignites simmering international conflicts. If Adolf Hitler, remarkably ignorant of the US, had grasped the true extent of American industrial might, would he still have fatefully declared war on Washington in 1941?

When the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979, it evidently had no idea what it was getting into. Humiliating defeat contributed greatly to its subsequent disintegration. In 1990, Iraq’s Saddam Hussein attacked Kuwait, convinced he had a green light from the White House. In all these cases, stupidity produced disastrous misjudgments that proved fatal.

Simon Tisdall is a Guardian foreign affairs commentator

From Vietnam to the Balkans, Donald Trump’s family has launched a global dealmaking blitz since his re-election

A crusading prosecutor in the Balkans comes under pressure to drop a big case. Vietnamese villagers learn they are to be evicted. A convicted crypto kingpin in the Gulf receives a pardon.

All have one thing in common: they appear to be connected to the Trump family’s campaign to amass riches around the world. Since Donald Trump’s re-election a year ago, warnings that his use of presidential power to advance personal interests is corroding American democracy have grown ever louder. What is less understood – and perhaps even more dangerous – is the damage this is doing everywhere else.

Rosa Park’s story is about courage. But, lest one forget, it is also a story about breaking the law

It was 70 years ago when four African Americans were sitting in the fifth row of a bus in Montgomery. As one white man had to stand towards the front, the driver asked the four to get up and move towards the back of the bus. Three did; one did not – the rest is history. Or so many American kids might think when they first read the story of Rosa Parks in school.

It is a story of courage, but, lest one forget, it is also a story about breaking the law. And the question for us today is what civil disobedience means in an era when the federal government is signaling its readiness severely to punish even perfectly legal dissent.