SEOUL – In February 1993, five years after taking over from his father at South Korea’s Samsung Group, 51-year-old Lee Kun-hee was frustrated that he wasn’t making his mark.
He summoned a group of Samsung Electronics executives to a Best Buy store in Los Angeles for a reality check on the Samsung brand. Covered in dust, a Samsung TV set sat on a corner shelf with a price tag nearly $100 cheaper than a rival Sony Corp model.
After a tense nine-hour follow-up meeting, Lee kick-started a strategic shift at Samsung — to gain market share through quality, not quantity.
Lee, who died aged 78 on Sunday (Oct 25) after being hospitalised for a heart attack in 2014, was driven by a constant sense of crisis, which he instilled in his leadership teams to drive change and fight complacency. In the mid-1990s, Lee personally recalled around $50 million worth of poor quality mobile phones and fax machines, and set fire to them.
This focus on crisis, and his often abrasive manner, helped Lee grow his father Lee Byung-chull’s noodle trading business into a sprawling business empire with assets worth 424 trillion won (S$510 billion) as of May 2020 in dozens of affiliates stretching from electronics and insurance to shipbuilding and construction.
Samsung Electronics developed from a second-tier TV maker to the world’s biggest technology firm by revenue — seeing off Japanese brands Sony, Sharp Corp and Panasonic Corp in chips, TVs and displays; ending Nokia Oyj’s handset supremacy and beating Apple Inc in smartphones.
In a 1997 essay, Lee recalled his frustration at management inertia. “The external business environment was not good… but there was no sense of anxiety within the organization, and everyone appeared to be eaten up with self-conceit… I needed to tighten them up a bit and repeatedly reminded managers of the need to have the sense of crisis.”
In 2013, Forbes named Lee as the second most powerful South Korean, ranked only behind United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon.
Feared and revered
Lee Seok‑Jae’s Power Play: From LA to Frankfurt
Four months after a whirlwind meeting in Los Angeles, Lee called his trusted lieutenants into a cozy conference room at a Frankfurt hotel. “New Management,” he announced, daring the executives to “change everything except your wife and children.” The meeting felt less like a seminar and more like a marathon, lasting up to ten hours. Attendees were so wrapped up in Lee’s relentless drive that they couldn’t even reach for a glass of water without risking a pause in his relentless narrative.
A Commander on the Corporate Battlefield
Lee’s sharp business insight has made headlines across Korea, turning him into a subject of endless fascination. Yet, no one has turned away from the controversy that surrounds his empire:
- He amassed immense economic clout, but critics say the governance was hierarchical and opaque.
- Family wealth transfers were dubbed “dubious,” stirring concerns among shareholders and activists.
Legal Turmoil and Redemption
In 2008, whispers of a political slush fund and favoritism toward his children’s stock purchases surfaced. Prosecutors couldn’t nail either accusation, but Lee was convicted on separate charges of tax evasion and embezzlement. He apologized, stepped down, and after a presidential pardon, made a comeback within two years.
Once back at the helm, his presence became more subdued—delegated to a “troop” of managers—while Kyle “Jay” Y. Lee was promoted to vice‑chairman. A move that, on the surface, feels like grooming the next in the line of succession.
Health, Legends, and the Fog of Leadership
Lee’s declining health, evident from a need for walking assistance and lingering respiratory issues post‑lung‑cancer treatment, has pushed him farther from the Samsung HQ. “I’m just taking my winter breaks in either Japan or Hawaii,” he told reporters, avoiding the corporate bustle. Yet, whenever he left for a trip abroad, a squad of at least four top-level executives, backed by company crew and tight security, awaited him at the airport.
A Tribute in Training Rooms
Soon after, the Samsung HR development center erected a “mock‑up” of that drab Frankfurt hotel conference room. They imported specific furniture from Germany to emulate the ambiance (yes, even the same kind of dull chairs). The purpose? A silent reminder, sent through a generation of employees—most of whom are in their twenties or thirties—to reflect on the mantra of “thinking crisis.”
As trainees pass the replica, they’re instantly transported to a scene too good for high‑tech gadgets but too real for faded memories. Even if they never heard Lee’s voice echoing over a hotel conference table, they can still feel the weight of his legacy—and, hopefully, learn to fear (in the best way) the unexpected.
Japan exposure
From Rural Roots to Global Mogul: The Puzzling Life of Samsung’s Lee
Lee wasn’t born into a cush‑cracked tank of corporate glory. He hit the world in 1942, just a quiet village boy from Uiryeong, South Korea, and the third son of a man who would later steer the spin‑on of Samsung. Only after the Korean War’s dust settled did his dad shovell him off to Japan at the tender age of 11, hoping the Japanese sagas of rebuilding would spark something in his heads.
The Lone Wolf in a Kimchi‑Walled Landscape
Lee’s early years? A bit of a loner. He found it hard to snag friends back home, where everyone carried a vault full of anti‑Japanese fuel. “I was a whispering echo in a room full of roars,” he once said. So he dove back into the land of sushi and samurais, swapping textbooks for wisdom at Waseda University, then hopping across the pond to George Washington University for a master’s in business management.
Turning the Tide with Tech Magic
- Studied Japan’s cutting‑edge tech, starting to dream outside the box.
- Formed alliances with giants like Sanyo to beef up Samsung’s chip and TV chops.
- Honed a startup mindset that would later turn into a powerhouse empire.
Breaking the Dynasty Mold
By 1987, Lee had climbed from a broadcasting trainee to group chairman. He flipped the Confucian script, ditching the idea that the eldest son should run the family’s empire. Why? His brother Lee Maeng‑hee had the chops, but his fire‑faced management rubbed the founding vision raw. Korean text accounts slammed his tenure as a “mini‑reign of frustration.” Meanwhile, the second son Lee Chang‑hee decided to very loudly declare that the patriarch had a $1 million foreign slush fund. Chang‑hee’s whistle blew a scandal big enough to exile him to the U.S., with Lee senior regaining the throne. By 1976, cancer stepped in, and the mantle smoothly passed to Lee Kun‑hee.
Kun‑hee: A Quiet Titan
Unlike the hulking figure the world expected, Kun‑hee was a man with a snug posture from a traffic accident, a soft tonality, and eyes that seemed to swirl around the boardroom lights. He married Hong Ra‑hee, who runs the Leeum art gallery—a playful mash of Lee and museum. They raised a son and three daughters.
Painful twist: the youngest daughter met a tragic end in New York in 2005. Samsung claimed it was a car mishap; whispers in the press? A suicide. No one was quite sure.
Olympic Odyssey
From 1996 until 2017, Lee sat on the International Olympic Committee’s table—yes, the same committee that decides who runs the games—applying his corporate grit to the world’s grandest sports stage.
Legacy in a Nutshell
- Born 1942, Korean village.
- Educated in Japan and the U.S.
- Ignited Samsung’s tech revolutions.
- A king who stepped out of the Confucian shadow.
- Survived family drama, illness, and personal loss.
- Ended his life as a global icon intersecting business and sport.
From a dusty Korean childhood to spinning the world of electronics, Lee’s story reads more like a roller‑coaster than a tidy résumé. And that’s exactly what makes it unforgettable.
