Haruki — Ibuki

Ibuki answered without blinking: "You fire processes , not people. Then you ask the survivors to build a new Sony."

Colleagues describe a man obsessed with kankaku —a Japanese word meaning "sensory perception." While rivals crunched numbers, Ibuki listened. He famously tested prototype headphones for six months, rejecting dozens of designs until he found a bass tone that “felt like a heartbeat.”

In a 2010 lecture at Kyoto University, he explained: "A company forgets how to make people feel something. We made the Walkman because we believed music should be private, mobile, and intimate. By 2003, we were making gadgets for a catalog. I did not save Sony. I just reminded Sony what it already knew: First, move the heart. The profit follows. " haruki ibuki

"How do you fire 20,000 people and not destroy the culture?" a reporter once asked him.

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To the average consumer, the name "Haruki Ibuki" does not carry the rock-star weight of a Steve Jobs or an Elon Musk. But inside the glass towers of Tokyo’s electronics giants, Ibuki is a legend. He is the executive who saved the PlayStation. He is the president who slashed 20,000 jobs without losing the soul of the company. And he is the unsung hero who bridged the gap between Sony’s analog golden age and its digital survival. Born in 1937 in Kyoto, Ibuki joined Sony in 1960, fresh out of Hitotsubashi University. He was not a flashy marketer; he was an engineer at heart. His early career was spent in the trenches of audio technology, working on the revolutionary Compact Cassette and later the Walkman .

When then-CEO Nobuyuki Idei stepped down, the board turned to Ibuki. He was 68 years old, an age when most Japanese executives retire to a golf course. Instead, he became President and COO, tasked with . Ibuki answered without blinking: "You fire processes ,

In the annals of Japanese corporate history, there are fixers, there are dreamers, and then there is Haruki Ibuki. He is the man who walked into a burning building—Sony in the early 2000s—and calmly rewired the electrical system while the walls were collapsing.

His first move was brutal: a restructuring plan that cut —a staggering number for a Japanese company that once promised lifetime employment. Factories in Japan were closed. The AIBO robot dog, a beloved pet-project of the engineering division, was euthanized. We made the Walkman because we believed music

While Kutaragi insisted on perfection, Ibuki did the unthinkable: He flew to Toshiba’s president without an appointment, secured a secondary fab line in 48 hours, and salvaged the 2000 launch. PS2 went on to sell over 155 million units, becoming the best-selling home console of all time. "Haruki-san saved Christmas," one Sony executive later joked. "Three Christmases in a row." In 2003, Sony hit a wall. The "Sony Shock" hit the Tokyo Stock Exchange when the company announced a paltry 1% operating margin. The iPod was eating the Walkman’s lunch. Flat-panel TVs from Samsung were cheaper and better. And internally, the once-proud giant was crippled by silo senki —"silo warfare" between departments.