45
of economic leverage to sway European
politics, they warn the deal is a stalking
horse for a new kind of Russian meddling
in America, one that exploits the U.S. free-
market system instead of its elections.
“That’s just what the Russians do,” says
Daniel Fried, a veteran diplomat who
shaped U.S. policy on Eastern Europe at
the State Department from the late 1980s
until 2017. “They insert themselves into a
foreign economy and then start to influ-
ence its politics from the inside.”
What worries national-security ex-
perts is not that Rusal, Braidy or Deripaska
broke any laws in the deal. It’s that they
didn’t. A TIME investigation found that
Rusal used a broad array of political and
economic tools to fight the sanctions, es-
tablishing a foothold in U.S. politics in the
process. “You cannot go against them in a
policy decision, even though it’s in our na-
tional interest, when they have infiltrated
you economically,” says Heather Conley,
who served as a Deputy Assistant Secre-
tary of State under President George W.
Bush. “They use our laws, our rules, our
banks, our lawyers, our lobbyists—it’s a
strategy from within.”
To free itself from sanctions, Rusal
fielded a team of high-paid lobbyists
for an intense, months-long effort in
Washington. One of the targets was Ken-
tucky’s own Mitch McConnell, the Sen-
ate majority leader, who helped thwart
a bipartisan push to keep the sanctions
in place. Since May, two of McConnell’s
former staffers have lobbied Congress
on behalf of Braidy, according to filings.
Ahead of the 2018 midterm elections, one
of Rusal’s longtime major shareholders,
Len Blavatnik, also contributed more
than $1 million through his companies to
a GOP campaign fund tied to McConnell.
Deripaska denies he has interest in
meddling in U.S. affairs. “If they didn’t
touch me, I wouldn’t have to be so inter-
ested in U.S. politics,” he told TIME in
February after attending a panel with U.S.
lawmakers in Munich. “But here I am,” he
added with a smile.
Backers of the deal say its critics are
playing politics or being paranoid. The
U.S. benefits from economic ties to for-
eign powers, they say, as long as every-
one plays by our rules. McConnell, who
declined an interview with TIME, told
reporters in May that his position on Rusal
was “completely unrelated to anything
that might happen in my home state.”
Blavatnik’s company, Access Industries,
told TIME his donations to both Dem-
ocrats and Republicans over the years
were driven “only by a desire to further
a pro-business, pro-Israel agenda,” not a
pro-Russia one. Rusal says its motives are
purely financial. “Rusal keeps out of poli-
tics in all its markets,” the company told
TIME. Industry experts agree that apart
from any political dividends, the plant in
Kentucky will likely reap significant prof-
its for its owners.
Since taking office, President Donald
Trump’s Administration has tightened the
rules on foreign investments that could
pose a threat to national security. But in
Ashland, as at the White House, few peo-
ple want to see the deal undone. In the
hilly towns around Ashland and Greenup,
the nexus between Rusal, Braidy and na-
tional security matters little next to the
jobs the deal would bring. Some 11,000
people have already applied to work at the
future mill, according to Braidy.
In the end, one of the lessons of the
pact may be that the U.S. has its hands
tied when it comes to this brand of Rus-
sian influence. Fighting back would cost
jobs that Americans need. Deripaska, who
personally remains under sanctions, is
glad to point out the dilemma. As he put
it to TIME in February, “By hitting us,
you hit yourselves.”
Back When Bouchard and Kentucky
Governor Matt Bevin broke ground in
June 2018, they shared a bottle of Korbel
and plenty of optimism. That October,
Trump touted the new aluminum mill at
a rally at Eastern Kentucky University, her-
alding it as a symbol of blue collar revival.
In Ashland, locals praised Bouchard’s com-
mitment to the region, pointing to his in-
vestments in scholarships and promises of
playground equipment for local schools.
In an area struggling with the twin crises
of job losses and the opioid epidemic, the
tall, genial CEO with a contagious grin has
embraced an image of economic savior.
When he walks around Ashland, Bouchard
says, “Middle-aged women will just come
up to me crying and hug me.”
Some in the region literally banked
their futures on the mill. More than
100 people, many of them middle-aged
^
Ground is broken for the new Braidy
aluminum plant on June 1, 2018
JOHN FLAVELL
