The Defining Experiences That Shaped His Leadership

Looking back on your twenties, what experience taught you the most valuable lesson?

Shortly after joining the Company, I was assigned to the export of steel pipes for the oil and gas industry. As a young employee, I repeatedly threw myself into meetings with customers who barely took me seriously, only to leave feeling thoroughly defeated. The turning point came when a senior contact at a client company called to tell me that a product document I had prepared for a customer contained some errors. He was extremely forceful, and at first I was taken aback. But no matter how many times I checked the document, I remained convinced that my version was correct. After a great deal of hesitation, I called him back later that evening and said, "I believe my version is the correct one." He shouted at me again and hung up. Five minutes later, he called back. "I'm sorry," he said. "You were right."

What about in your thirties?

There were two major lessons I learned during my thirties. The first was the importance of understanding how other people think. That lesson began when I was posted to Tehran in my early thirties. I was solely responsible for the steel pipe business there, leading a team of older, experienced Iranian professionals. Managing that team was anything but easy. Looking back, however, that environment was exactly what I needed. My colleagues had spent many more years in the business than I had and took great pride in their expertise.

At times they proposed approaches that, from my perspective, seemed simply wrong. There were occasions when projects stalled or opportunities were in danger of slipping away because of those differences. Even so, rather than dismissing their ideas outright, I made a point of asking, "What led you to think that?" We talked through every decision in detail because if you want people to move with you, you must first understand why they think the way they do. What is common sense in Japan may seem completely unreasonable elsewhere – and the reverse is equally true. If that's the case, then I also should be willing to change my own way of doing things. That was the lesson my thirties taught me.

One experience involving letters of credit (LC) stands out. Even after an order has been placed, production cannot begin until a letter of credit has been issued. Without it, there is no guarantee of payment, and manufacturers are understandably unwilling to proceed. In other words, issuing the LC is what effectively brings the transaction into motion.

At one point, we were receiving a steady stream of purchase orders, yet the letters of credit never arrived. I repeatedly explained to our counterpart that without the LC we could not begin production and that any delay in production would inevitably delay delivery. To me, it seemed like simple common sense. One of my team members observing these exchanges quietly remarked, "That approach isn't going to get them moving." He suggested bypassing the person we had been dealing with and checking directly with the bank to see whether the LC application had been submitted. To be honest, I resisted. Would a bank disclose that information to an outsider? Wouldn't it embarrass our counterpart? But given the lack of movement, I decided to follow his advice.

And what was the second lesson you learned in your thirties?

The second was the true meaning of a win-win relationship, something that was drilled into me during a price negotiation after returning from Iran. We were negotiating pipe prices with a major Australian oil company when we reached a point where we had to secure a 35% price increase under a long-term contract. Ordinarily, price negotiations revolve around differences of perhaps five percent. When the manufacturer first informed us that such a large increase would be necessary, my honest reaction was that we would probably lose the contract.

I traveled to Australia and spent a week explaining, day after day, why such a substantial increase was unavoidable. The response was little short of outright rejection. They told me that if the increase could be reduced to ten or fifteen percent, they would listen. But if it remained at thirty-five, I could go home. Eventually I did return to Japan, where I was greeted with, "Well, I suppose it couldn't be done after all." But I knew we had to make it happen. The increase was unavoidable, so I insisted: "Please let me go back one more time." A week later I returned to Australia. The terms had not changed. What changed was the way I explained the situation to them. Over several days, I explained from every possible angle why the increase had to be thirty-five percent, what had changed in the market and why there wasn't any alternative.

In the end, they accepted the full increase. Then, the senior contact at the company said something I have never forgotten. "We simply can't do without your company's service and your steel pipes. A price increase of this size is obviously painful. But we still need what you provide." Then he added: "A business relationship only works if it is truly win-win."

He continued: "You may feel you've won this negotiation. We have no choice but to absorb a significant additional cost. But you're the only company that can provide what we need, including local support. That's why we chose Sumitomo Corporation instead of another supplier. That's what makes this relationship win-win." Hearing those words, I found myself unexpectedly moved to tears. It made me realize that the essence of a price negotiation is not who secures the better terms in the short run, but the long-term value of the relationship itself.

How did the ability to earn the trust of others, which you cultivated in your twenties and thirties, impact your work in your forties and beyond?

In my forties, during the 2000s, I spent eight years in London. It was there that I came face to face with the limitations of a business model built simply on buying and selling steel pipes. One customer put it to me this way: "Our job as an oil company is to drill, produce oil and gas and transport it. We don't want to be in the business of managing steel pipe inventories." That was the turning point. Our customers no longer wanted to hold inventory, and neither did the manufacturers, so I began asking a different question. What if the trading company took responsibility for inventory management, processing and local support, then supplied products on a just-in-time basis? I realized this represented an opportunity to create a much stronger customer relationship. Rather than resisting change, I chose to see it as an opportunity, committed myself to transforming the business model and drove that transition forward.

My forties were also the period in which that resolve was truly tested. We established processing facilities alongside inventory yards, supplied customers with complete packages of equipment and materials and even collected surplus inventory. When I arrived in London in 1999, none of this existed. By the time I left in 2008, most of our long-term contracts had been converted to this new model. Naturally there was opposition within the Company. "Why should we take on inventory assets?" people asked. That made it more important to demonstrate that, if we were going to commit capital to holding inventory, we also had to generate returns that justified those assets. To this end I explained to customers, repeatedly and in detail, why service fees were essential if the model was to deliver an appropriate return on assets.

Of course, putting the idea into practice proved anything but straightforward. Demand forecasting, for example, became a major challenge. Holding too much inventory reduced asset efficiency. Holding too little increased the risk of stock shortages. We worked closely with customers to estimate when products would be needed and in what quantities. Even then, customers naturally tended to overstate their requirements, while actual orders often arrived later than expected. Determining the right inventory levels meant constantly refining our purchasing decisions through trial and error until our forecasts became increasingly accurate.

Transforming a business model of this kind cannot be achieved through vision alone. Only when you commit yourself to making it happen, hiring people to support processing and logistics and carrying the execution through until the operation runs smoothly, can you truly say the transformation has been realized.

Looking back, was there a turning point in your fifties when everything you had built throughout your twenties, thirties and forties led you to your next major step?

In 2010, I was posted to Houston in the United States, where I continued overseeing the steel pipe business. As my assignment was drawing to a close, my superior in the Steel Business Unit at the time traveled from Tokyo to meet me and asked, "Would you consider leading a completely different business?" He was referring to the position of General Manager of the Energy Division. Looking back, that was a major turning point in my career. I answered immediately: "I'll do it."

Why were you able to accept, without hesitation, a leadership role in a field so different from your own?

After spending thirty years in the steel pipe business, perhaps I had begun to lose sight of how I could continue growing. I saw this opportunity as a chance to broaden my experience as someone responsible for leading an organization. The Houston office brought together businesses spanning chemicals, real estate, power, energy and many other fields. Every conversation reminded me just how different each business model was. I found myself wondering whether I really wanted to spend my entire career in the same field. It was precisely at that moment that this opportunity presented itself. Returning to Japan and taking on the role marked the beginning of a difficult period. But it also gave me experiences that proved indispensable in preparing me to lead the Company. In fact, I am convinced that if I had declined the opportunity, I would never have become President.

Leading a business unit outside your own area of expertise must have presented considerable challenges. Looking back, what experience stands out most clearly?

What message would you like to share with today's business professionals who are building careers in a rapidly changing world?

Not long ago, I had the opportunity to speak to junior high and high school students at my old school. As part of its CSR initiatives, Sumitomo Corporation places great emphasis on education, and we regularly visit schools to speak and interact with students. What surprised me most was how many students already had a clear idea of their future, far more than when I was their age.

People sometimes ask me, "How can I become a company president?" My answer is always the opposite of what they expect. Rather than asking what position you should aim for, what's far more important is to cultivate curiosity about everything around you. Why? Because if you ask today's presidents and senior executives whether they always imagined themselves in their current positions, I suspect around 80 percent would say, "No. I was aiming for something completely different."

If you decide too early that there is only one path for you, setbacks can become unnecessarily discouraging. Allow yourself to change. The opportunities that appear in front of you may become turning points in your life. Curiosity makes you want to investigate. It makes you want to learn. And learning ultimately enables you to seize opportunities. Even if life doesn't unfold exactly as you imagined, I hope you'll see that as evolution, not failure.

What advice would you give to people who are already in the workforce in their twenties?

It's perfectly natural to feel uncertain in your twenties. Once you enter the workforce, everyone reaches a point where they wonder, "How far can I really go?" Surrounded by accomplished senior colleagues, it's only natural to feel that way. But everyone has strengths that nobody else possesses. Take today's young professionals. Many are AI natives with a natural fluency in using AI. If that is where your strengths lie, make the most of them. Those strengths will ultimately become benefits for your company as well. So don't let uncertainty hold you back. Even if you're not sure whether you'll succeed, take that first step. It's perfectly all right if things don't work out the first time. You already possess unique capabilities. Have confidence in them and keep challenging yourself.

What capabilities do you believe business professionals should cultivate during their thirties?

What advice would you give to people in their forties and fifties?

President Ueno generously gave us far more time than originally scheduled, sharing a wide range of experiences and insights that offered both practical lessons and much food for thought. As I looked back over my notes after the interview, three themes continued to stand out:
1. "No.1 in Each Field" as a catalyst for transformation
2. Moments of crisis as opportunities to renew organizational culture and behavior
3. Curiosity and the determination never to look away

Listening to President Ueno, I came to understand that "No.1 in Each Field" is not simply about ranking first or achieving the greatest scale. Rather, it is a way of encouraging people to redefine their own strengths and translate them into concrete actions, measurable KPIs and realistic time horizons. Which business do we want to become No.1 in? Which customer segment matters most? What unique value do we provide? How will success be measured? Over what time frame? By continually asking these questions and engaging in the thinking and dialogue they demand, people across the organization begin looking forward together. That is why "No.1 in Each Field" becomes much more than a slogan. It becomes a force that accelerates transformation.

President Ueno spoke candidly about the substantial impairment losses incurred in the energy business and his determination that "we must not let this Energy Division fail." What struck me most was the leadership that followed. Rather than searching for individuals to blame, he translated the lessons of the crisis into practical behavioral principles for the whole organization. Those principles became the "Thirty Mindsets," encouraging people to practice small but meaningful changes in their everyday work. It reinforced my sense that periods of crisis can also become opportunities to renew organizational culture, reshape behavior and build stronger foundations for future growth.

Looking back across President Ueno's career, a recurring theme appears. The courage to speak up as a young employee. His willingness to understand how others think while working in another culture. His immediate acceptance of a leadership role in an unfamiliar field. All of these, it seems to me, are rooted in two qualities: curiosity and the refusal to shy away from difficulties. Careers rarely unfold as planned. They are shaped by how we respond to the difficulties and opportunities we encounter along the way. That accumulation of experiences builds both trust and personal growth. It eventually led to President Ueno's appointment as President and CEO. In turn, those same qualities – curiosity and the willingness to face challenges head on – continue to deepen and spread throughout the organization he now leads. Having completed its structural reforms and entered a new phase of growth, Sumitomo Corporation is encouraging each of its businesses to embody the spirit of "No.1", approaching every opportunity with curiosity and the determination not to shy away from change, while continuing to renew its organizational culture and transform the way it works. It is a journey that will be fascinating to follow.