Is Masayoshi Son’s turn as inventor-in-chief really good for SoftBank?

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It’s dawn in the chief executive’s office at SoftBank. The member of staff manning the Masayoshi Son invention hotline relaxes. The phone has been mercifully silent overnight and the morning handover is in sight; experience suggests, though, that now is exactly when the boss has his most brilliant ideas.

Brrrriiing! “A self-aware AI egg whisk? Genius, Sir. We’ll start filing the patent now.”

Brrrriiing! “An AI duck pond with GPT generative auto-quack? Sir is truly on fire tonight.”

Brrrriiing! “A horse-drawn particle accelerator? I presume that it somehow involves AI, Sir? A remarkable hat-trick, and it’s barely Tuesday.”

These exchanges may all be imaginary, but the set-up, according to the man himself last week, is very much not. Son, aged 65 and by some measures the world’s most important technology investor, really has started describing himself as an “architect of the future of humankind”. He has gone all-in on the invention game. 

His company, SoftBank, really does maintain a 24/7 hotline so rotating shifts of staff and patent agents can process the founder’s ideas the instant they burst from his brain. The ideas (many apparently AI-related, based on Son’s late-night conversations with ChatGPT and involving notional collaboration with the SoftBank-owned UK-chipmaker Arm) really are flowing: a declared 630 inventions over the past eight months, and a neo-Edisonesque target of 1,000 by year end. Some of these inventions may have the potential to change the world but most, by Son’s own cheerful admission last week, really are completely useless. 

While all this is engrossing as a spectacle, it feels like a turning point for SoftBank — and not necessarily a good one. Sudden transformational triumph has always been both Son and the company’s way. But those transformations stood a better chance of success when Son was more overtly motivated by money than by societal architecture. Japan too, while it might hate to admit it, is probably better served by the original version.

The background to the investor’s strategic shift was revealed to be more complex than the market had guessed. Until last week, Son had not appeared in public for seven months. On the previous occasion a lossmaking, wound-licking founder had declared that SoftBank was in “defensive” mode; since then the company has been assembling a mighty $36bn war chest of liquid assets. Now, Son told shareholders in his grand reappearance, the company is ready to go back on the offensive. 

This is certainly exciting. SoftBank looks as if it may be on the scent of some big deal, and that always means a feast. But investors’ enthusiasm was tempered with what felt like unspooling from the psychiatrist’s couch. 

Before he got on to talking about his inventions, Son described days of unstoppable tears and profound reflection on whether he was truly leading the life he wanted. Would his remaining years be spent in a state of obligation or freedom? Would he end his career as a businessman or as something more important to mankind?

There was a palpable personal attempt to recapture a happier past. It was the sale of one of his early inventions (a translation device, sold to Sharp) that helped fund the foundation of SoftBank and, according to the 2010 authorised biography, the more carefree Son set aside part of every day in his early 20s for inventing. That ended when the burden of management became too heavy. 

The market will have to decide for itself just how investible a torrent of tears and a late-life crisis for the founder sounds when it comes to valuing SoftBank. Clearly, though, there is an opportunity cost in betting against Son. SoftBank could soar from two years’ of losses either with a mega-deal or a Son-derived mega-invention. And there will be a fair segment of Japan that will have a lot of sympathy with a natural-born inventor deciding to return to his roots. Japan, rightly or wrongly, sees itself as a nurturing home of such minds.

The bigger danger, though, is that by indulging Son’s retreat to the garden shed (albeit a $68bn garden shed annexed to the world’s foremost chip designer), the country as a whole loses more than it gains. SoftBank — and more specifically Son — is a rarity in Japan. Not only is it globally important in the world of technology and tech investment, but also, the company is historically eager to lay heavy wagers with confidence. Son remains a must-meet figure for any technology hopeful and the Vision fund is still powerful. 

Those qualities have ebbed rather over the past two years, and could now disappear if Son’s inventions do indeed monopolise his attention. Japan needs more companies like SoftBank, not more inventors.

leo.lewis@ft.com