Founders Peak speech script
I had the opportunity to give a speech at Founders Peak, which, from what I'd initially heard, is a TED-inspired event where founders and athletes deliver prepared presentations. It turned out that I was the only one who had diligently prepared. Let me share the script here. The speech will be posted on YouTube later.
Hello everyone.
Like many other entrepreneurs, I give self-introductions quite often. Here’s the one I typically use:
“Hi, I’m Taejun Shin. I was born and raised in Japan, but I am stateless and do not hold a passport. I co-founded Gojo & Company, which aspires to be the private-sector version of the World Bank.”
Whenever I say this, some people get puzzled, like you, in this room. Most people hesitate to ask personal questions, especially in official settings. So I am here today to satisfy that curiosity.
The first question I get is “Why are you stateless?” Well, the story started almost a century ago.
My grandparents came from the southern part of the Korean Peninsula before the end of World War II. Back then, Korea was part of the Japanese Empire, so my grandparents held Japanese citizenship at that time. They decided to come to Japan and settled here.
After the war ended, Japan gave up its sovereignty over the Korean Peninsula, and all Koreans in Japan effectively became stateless overnight. Then Japan came under the occupation of the US, and the Korean Peninsula entered another war. As a result, their stateless status became effectively permanent, and I inherited that status.
Even now, there are around 30,000 stateless Koreans in Japan, though we have permanent residency here.
Next, people often ask, “How do you travel if you don’t have a passport?” I have a travel document, which is called a re-entry permit. To understand my document better, let me start with a normal passport.
(Show a photo of a Japanese passport)
Most passports have a first page that says something like:
This person is a citizen of our country.
He or she is entitled to re-enter our country.
We ask other nations to offer them the necessary support and protection.
(Now show the first page of my reentry permit)
Here is the first page of my document. You can see that it basically states none of the usual points. The only thing it clarifies in a later page is that I may return to Japan, and that is why the document is called a re-entry permit. There is no phrase indicating that the Japanese government will protect me or provide assistance if I run into trouble abroad. I once ended up confirming it, when my travel document was stolen in Europe. I contacted the Japanese Embassy, hoping they might help, but the officials politely explained, “There is nothing we can do for you.”
Another question I often hear is: “Why don’t you just acquire Japanese citizenship?” Yes, it is an option. However, until recently, there was a rule requiring us to change the pronunciation of our name to the Japanese reading of the Chinese characters.
For example, Masayoshi Son, the founder of SoftBank. He once held the same status as mine. His original name was Son Jeong-ui, which is how you would pronounce those Chinese characters in Korean. When he naturalized, he became Masayoshi Son.
For me, Taejun Shin would become “Yasutoshi Shin.” Taejun Shin, Yasutoshi Shin. Hmm, not.
So, I decided not to change it. Even though the rules have relaxed somewhat now, I have lived with this identity for so long that I’m not inclined to alter it for now.
Of course, there is a price to pay for that decision. Every time I travel, I need to apply for a visa. Some countries have no process for stateless individuals, so sometimes I need to work hard to let them create the new process. Additionally, my travel document cannot be scanned in the usual passport readers at airports, so immigration officers and airport police often take me into a separate room to ask me tons of questions. Then I have to explain who I am, why I don’t have a normal passport, and the whole story behind it.
Even for travelers with a regular passport, immigration can be intimidating, because you never quite know what might happen outside your home country. So you can imagine how I would feel.
Now, if you were to look at a typical career advice flowchart, it will never recommend me to start a business of global financial inclusion, which entails frequent overseas travels. Yet here I am. Why did I choose to do this?
Well, part of the answer lies in my upbringing. My family was not wealthy. My mother effectively served as the CFO of our household. She was the one who managed tight cash flow, securing funds from relatives and others whenever money was short. Despite her efforts, there was a time when even her financial juggling didn’t work. We didn’t have money to pay the entrance fee for graduate school.
That tuition was critical for me, because going to graduate school was an important step toward building a career in the finance industry and eventually improving my family’s financial situation. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face when she exhausted all possible measures and resources.
Finally, my father stepped in as the last resort. He managed to borrow money from somewhere else—likely at great personal cost. He handed me a thick envelope of cash in our small living room. I can still vividly recall that moment. That money covered my graduate school entry fee. Thanks to the money, I managed to start my career in private equity later. I worked in the sector for eight years and became financially secure enough to take a risk on my own startup.
Therefore, I know how critical financial inclusion is. That is why I co-founded Gojo & Company to extend financial inclusion across the globe by creating the private sector World Bank. Today, we provide microfinance services for millions of households in developing countries.
When I look back, my life has been full of challenges. Some were results of my own decisions and mistakes, but some were beyond my control. Having lived through them, I’ve developed my own coping mechanism, and I would like to share that with you.
I try to find meaning in the challenges I face. Whenever I face trouble, I ask myself, “What is this situation teaching me? What does it want me to do?” Usually, when I reflect deeply, I can find a lesson or a purpose hidden within the problem. Once I identify it, I move forward.
For instance, remaining stateless has become a constant reminder for me to stay mindful of those who are underprivileged. It also works as a promotion for the 10 million stateless people worldwide, living with uncertain legal status and limited protections. If I had not been born stateless, I would not be as serious about equality of opportunity as I am today.
My family’s financial difficulties taught me the importance of financial inclusion. Thanks to financial inclusion, I managed to determine my own future. Financial inclusion is a human right and an integral part of equality of opportunity. If my family were wealthy enough, probably I would not have started Gojo.
Actually, the challenges I shared with you today were not the toughest ones, compared with what I’ve experienced as an entrepreneur. As all entrepreneurs would agree with me, it is full of hard things. Every suffering in my journey forced me to ask, “Do I truly love what I’m doing? Is it worth persevering with all these?” These constant questionings made me a real entrepreneur.
A silver lining to adversity is that it can clarify what truly matters to us. The suffering tells us who we are, and that self-realization is one of the best gifts that we can enjoy as an entrepreneur.
Thank you all for listening. I wish you a wonderful rest of the day.