1946Tokyo Tsushin Kogyo (“Totsuko”) founded by Ibuka and Morita
1955TR-55, Japan’s first transistor radio
1958Renamed Sony; listed on the Tokyo exchange
1968Trinitron colour television
1970Listed on the New York Stock Exchange
1979Walkman; enters life insurance
Sony began in 1946 as Tokyo Tsushin Kogyo — “Totsuko” — set up by the ex-navy engineer Masaru Ibuka and the sake-brewer’s son Akio Morita in the burnt-out ruins of a Nihonbashi department store, with capital of ¥190,000 and about twenty employees. In an electronics industry where the giants competed on plant and distribution, a tiny firm could not hold its own on technology alone — so its first weapon was not a product but a patent. In 1950 Ibuka bought the high-frequency-bias tape-recording patent for $694 (¥250,000) and used it as a barrier that shut Toshiba, Hitachi and Matsushita out of the tape-recorder market until 1960, buying a decade in which to build real engineering and manufacturing muscle.
In 1954 Ibuka licensed Bell Labs’ transistor patent for $25,000 (¥9m), pouring most of the profit earned from tape recorders into semiconductors; where the licensor imagined hearing aids, Ibuka aimed at radios. The first Japanese transistor radio, the TR-55, followed in 1955, but at $56 (¥20,000) it was too dear for Japanese buyers. The answer came from Morita, who moved to New York, refused an American distributor’s offer to supply radios under its own label, and bet instead on exporting under Sony’s own SONY mark — an unusual choice for a Japanese maker of the day. The company renamed itself Sony in 1958, listed in Tokyo, and in 1961 became the first Japanese firm to issue an ADR.
The Trinitron colour television (1968), with its brighter single-gun tube, and the Walkman (1979) — which Ibuka pushed through over internal objections by stripping out recording to make a pure player — turned Sony into a global brand that helped define the world’s consumer-electronics market, with revenue nearing ¥1 trillion by the end of the 1970s. Yet in that same year, 1979, Sony also entered life insurance in a venture with Prudential, an early hedge against the fragility of living on hardware sales alone — the first crack in its electronics-only base, opened in the very year of the Walkman’s triumph.
1980Hardware meets software — the acquisition bet and its long cost
Revenue (¥ bn, bars) · net margin (%, line)
Source: securities reports & corporate yearbooks
FY1980 · unconsolidated
Revenue$2.7B
Net income$141M
Net margin5.3%
→
FY2011 · consolidated
Revenue$90.0B
Net income-$3.3B
Net margin-3.6%
1982World’s first CD player (with Philips)
1988Buys CBS Records (~$2bn)
1989Buys Columbia Pictures (~$4.8bn)
1994PlayStation; Columbia write-down
2003The “Sony Shock”
2005Howard Stringer — first foreign CEO
2009First operating loss in company history
The world’s first CD player (1982), co-developed with Philips, and the memory of Betamax losing to VHS on the sheer supply of content, pushed vertical integration to the centre of Sony’s strategy: own both the hardware and the software that plays on it. Sony bought CBS Records for about $2 billion in 1988 and Columbia Pictures for about $4.8 billion in 1989 — roughly $6 billion sunk into Hollywood in two years, a sum that made Sony a symbol of Japanese money buying “the soul of America.” Columbia then bled money and cost overruns, forcing a $2.6B (¥270bn) write-down in 1994; but a film studio and a record label were now permanent parts of the portfolio, and they would define Sony’s profits for the next thirty years.
In 1994 Sony launched the PlayStation. Choosing CD-ROM over cartridges cut developers’ costs and drew a wide field of outside studios; within six years it had shipped 100 million units and overturned the Nintendo-and-Sega order, and the PlayStation 2 (2000) made games Sony’s second pillar after electronics. But the wider the businesses spread, the thicker the internal walls grew: the 1994 “company system” sharpened each unit’s profit responsibility yet walled hardware off from software. When Apple swept the music-download market with the iPod and iTunes in 2001, the maker of the Walkman was left behind — beaten not on technology but by an organisation that would not let its own parts combine.
In April 2003 a downgraded forecast sent the shares limit-down for two straight days and dragged the whole Nikkei average with them — the “Sony Shock,” which laid bare a structural decline in electronics. Howard Stringer, the first foreign CEO (2005), could not stop the losses; the 2008 financial crisis and a soaring yen then drove Sony to its first-ever operating loss in the year to March 2009, and losses recurred until a record net loss of $5.7B (¥457bn) in the year to March 2012. From the iPhone’s arrival in 2007, the value Sony had bundled into hardware drained into the smartphone, and about ¥2.4 trillion of annual revenue evaporated in four years.
2012Rebuilding: divestiture and the pure holding company
Revenue (¥ bn, bars) · net margin (%, line)
Source: securities reports & corporate yearbooks
FY2012 · consolidated
Revenue$81.4B
Net income-$5.7B
Net margin-7%
→
FY2022 · consolidated
Revenue$63.9B
Net income$6.7B
Net margin10.5%
2012Record net loss; Kazuo Hirai becomes CEO
2014VAIO sold; TV business spun off
2016Image-sensor business spun off (Sony Semiconductor Solutions)
2018Kenichiro Yoshida becomes CEO — “purpose” management
2021¥1-trillion net profit; renamed Sony Group
2022Buys Bungie; forms Sony Honda Mobility
Kazuo Hirai, from the PlayStation side, became president and CEO in 2012, and his first move was less about what to grow than what to shed. He sold the VAIO PC business to a fund and spun off televisions in 2014, and in 2017 handed the lithium-ion battery business — a technology Sony itself had commercialised in 1992 — to Murata, which took on about 8,500 of its staff. Rather than close plants and cut jobs, Sony passed loss-making businesses on with their factories and people intact — a workable template for how a large Japanese firm can let go of a shrinking business.
What Hirai kept were five fields — PlayStation, CMOS image sensors, music, film and finance — and image sensors, spun into Sony Semiconductor Solutions (2016), grew past a 40% world share on smartphone cameras and carried the group to a record operating profit in the year to March 2018. Kenichiro Yoshida, a former CFO, took over in 2018 under the banner of “purpose,” fully acquired Sony Financial for $3.7B (¥396bn), and in 2021 renamed the parent Sony Group, hiving electronics off into a subsidiary and completing a pure holding-company structure. Net profit reached $9.4B (¥1.03tn) that year — one of the rare ¥1-trillion results by a Japanese company — with games, music and film together supplying nearly half of revenue.
In 2022 Sony bought the American studio Bungie for about $3.6 billion, extending the “IP as an asset” method learned in film and music into live-service games, and formed Sony Honda Mobility with Honda to build EVs from its sensing and entertainment technology. The reach of the group widened again — though the returns from mobility remained unproven — and the portfolio reshaping Hirai had begun reached a milestone: a company built on televisions a decade earlier was now an entertainment-and-technology group.
2023Purifying into entertainment: the financial spin-off
Revenue (¥ bn, bars) · net margin (%, line)
Source: securities reports & corporate yearbooks
FY2023 · consolidated
Revenue$71.9B
Net income$7.2B
Net margin10%
→
FY2026 · consolidated
Revenue$78.9B
Net income-$2.1B
Net margin-2.6%
2023Hiroki Totoki becomes president
2024Totoki becomes CEO
2025Sony Financial partially spun off and re-listed; 5-for-1 stock split
Hiroki Totoki, another former CFO, became president in 2023 and CEO in April 2024, and set about finishing the purification into an entertainment company. In September 2025 he partially spun off Sony Financial Group and re-listed it on the Tokyo exchange, cutting the parent’s stake to under 20% — letting go, in five years, of the very finance arm Yoshida had fully absorbed in 2020. Structured as Japan’s first tax-qualified partial spin-off, it returned finance to independent capital without triggering tax for the company or its shareholders.
In the same October, Sony split its stock five-for-one to widen its individual-shareholder base and pressed on toward a business concentrated on games, music, film and image sensors. Group sales reached about ¥13 trillion in the year to March 2025 with operating profit above ¥1.4 trillion — the shift into an entertainment-and-technology company achieved in the numbers — even as the open question remained whether a lighter Sony Group can raise its capital efficiency and whether a freed Sony Financial can grow on its own.
The heart of this decision was to give up the obvious commercial logic and bet on an intangible asset. An order for 100,000 units promised a cash-strapped newcomer immediate sales and a busy factory. Morita turned it down because he saw that so long as Sony built cheaply as a subcontractor it could compete only on price, and would never escape the position of being beaten down on cost. An own-brand earned nothing at first. Even so, Morita had grasped early that whether a manufacturer could own a product customers chose by name would decide its margin and its future.
A brand is not built overnight. For SONY to become a name that carried across the world, it had to wait for the transistor radios that followed and for later hits like the Trinitron and the Walkman. Yet without this one refusal of a large subcontract order, all that accumulation would have been buried under another company’s trademark. To own a brand, or to remain an excellent contract maker — the same question still faces Japanese manufacturers today, in an age of EMS and OEM. Sony’s answer was to stake everything on a name while it was still unknown: a choice that looks simple in hindsight and was, at the time, thoroughly unreasonable.
The core of this decision was a hardware maker reaching to own the very content it would carry. Betamax’s defeat had taught Sony that the supply of content decides a format war. Buying CBS Records and Columbia Pictures was an attempt to act on that lesson in advance — to place hardware and software inside the same company. Yet owning content and turning content into profit are two different problems. Making films runs on a logic unlike the mass production of electronics, and the fruit of integration did not ripen quickly. The 1994 write-down was the price that distance exacted.
At a high tuition and over a long time, Sony changed from a television company into a content company. Today, that games, music and film carry about half of group profit cannot be drawn without the back-to-back acquisitions of 1988 and 1989. The investment in America — attacked at the time as buying “the soul of the United States” — was, in hindsight, a pre-emptive move to put hard-to-obsolesce content at the centre of earnings in an age when the edge in hardware goes stale within years. Morita’s idea, that one company should hold both the format and the content, still speaks to a present in which distribution and platforms compete. What is tested is not owning the vessel but whether its contents can be grown into a business that earns for the long run.
A design philosophy that turned a rupture into a bet
The heart of this decision was to recast the misfortune of a break with Nintendo into a design philosophy of Sony’s own. The CD-ROM Sony chose was not merely a change of medium. Cheaper than a cartridge, larger in capacity and easy to copy, the optical disc lowered the burden on the outside studios that supplied software and became a vessel that drew in a wide range of titles. To gather people by the richness of software rather than compete on the power of the hardware — for a Sony that had watched Betamax lose to VHS on the number of titles, this was the reverse of its own lesson.
Still, the obsession of Ken Kutaragi, the man at the centre of the rupture, would not by itself have started the business. What overrode the internal caution that saw games as an extension of toys, and allowed a solo entry, was president Norio Ohga, who already held film and music inside the company. Good software cannot be mass-produced like a factory’s output — Ohga’s words mark the distance from the consumer-electronics habit of earning by mass-producing hardware. Which to place at the centre of earnings, hardware or software: to that theme Sony had pursued since the CBS and Columbia deals, the PlayStation gave a new answer in games, and it remains today the group’s largest business.
The heart of this restructuring lay in a single question: how to wind down a loss-making business. Sony chose not to close factories and cut jobs but to hand both the PC and the battery businesses — plants and people together — to other companies. VAIO became independent under an investment fund; Murata took on the battery business along with about 8,500 jobs. A retreat that nonetheless prepared a destination for the business and its people. By softening the blow to local economies and employees, this method showed Japanese firms wrestling with how to release a shrinking business one workable template.
The other point is that the difficulty of “select and concentrate” lies more in the selecting than the concentrating. To picture what to grow is easy. What is hard is deciding to let go of a business one launched into the world oneself — like the battery — on the ground that it can no longer be expected to grow. That Hirai thought from his first day in office about what to discard shows how he faced that difficulty. Sony’s few years, returning from its largest-ever loss to its best profit in two decades, quietly show that a company’s shape is decided by skill at subtraction, not addition.
Can value be raised without splitting the company?
The heart of this decision was that, against an activist’s logic of splitting off a high-earning business to unlock its value, Sony answered both times by keeping it inside. In 2013 the target was entertainment; in 2019 it was semiconductors — opposite ends of the company. Yet Sony’s answer did not change. Rather than separate each business and let the market price it, it judged that having film, music, semiconductors and finance cooperate under one umbrella was worth more over the long run — and both the Hirai and Yoshida regimes turned back the break-up case on that single point. It acknowledged the market’s discount while declining to split the company to dissolve it.
So was the choice to stay integrated the right one? The Sony that refused separation became a ¥1-trillion-profit company, and image sensors remain a pillar of growth; the answer seems to be in. Yet the story does not close there. Sony would later part — on its own timing and terms — with several of the very assets Third Point had urged it to tidy up: it sold its Olympus shares and, in 2025, partially spun off and re-listed finance. Having once turned back the break-up case, it went on to decide for itself what to keep and what to release. Sony’s two refusals, one reads, did not settle the question of whether value can be raised while integrated so much as take it back into management’s own hands.
Binding the group by purpose, not by a founder’s charisma
The heart of this decision is not merely a matter of finance or org charts. What would bind a company that Ibuka and Morita had led by personal vision and magnetism, once the founders were gone — the answer Yoshida chose was a shared word, “purpose.” From the transistor radio to the purchase of a film studio, Sony’s expansion had always rested on the strong intuition of individuals. To dilute that dependence on individuals while holding many businesses required setting, as the whole company’s measure, not scale or technology but the question of what it exists for. The pure holding-company structure and the absorption of finance can be seen as the means of building that measure into the institution.
Still, the word “purpose” did not itself produce ¥1 trillion of profit. That figure had the tailwind of stay-home demand, and what carried earnings were the games, semiconductor and finance businesses honed under Hirai. What purpose management achieved was to retell businesses of differing character as a single company and to let the priorities of resource allocation be shared across the whole. Whether many businesses can be bound by a statement of purpose in place of a charismatic leader’s intuition — Sony’s seven years offer one way of answering the question that confronts large Japanese companies once the founder’s colour has faded.
A 46-year arc closes, and the next answer is awaited
The core of this separation is that the finance business, begun in 1979 to cover the fragility of the core business, was returned to the capital market after 46 years. Finance was born as insurance against standing on hardware alone, and in the 2010s, when electronics sank into loss, it supported the group’s profit from below. In 2020 Sony took that finance business fully in-house, as a safety valve to damp the swings in earnings. Yet the more it held the safety valve, the heavier grew both the problem of a diversified set of businesses being valued cheaply as one lump and the burden of explaining capital efficiency. That the reason for starting and the reason for letting go both spring from the same point — the swing of the core business — is where this decision’s twist and its consistency sit together.
The manner of letting go also shows a designed intent. Rather than a full separation, Sony kept just under 20%, and fit the deal into the tax-qualified frame so that neither shareholders nor the company incurred tax. Combining an in-kind dividend with a direct listing, it avoided the supply-side weight of a public offering and returned finance to independent capital. As Japan’s first tax-qualified partial spin-off, it set a template for firms carving out a business — no small thing. Still, whether a lighter Sony Group can raise its capital efficiency in entertainment and semiconductors, and whether an independent Sony Financial Group can escape its tilt toward life insurance and grow on its own, is not yet visible at the time of writing, just after the split. Beyond the close of the 46-year arc, the next answer for each of the two companies is awaited.
Each heading links to the full Japanese analysis — background, decision and outcome, with sources.
This is a condensed English edition. The full, source-by-source history — with the detailed narrative, financial tables, shareholders and executives — is maintained in Japanese: 日本語版(詳細)— Sony Group full history in Japanese →
Sony Group Corp. — 有価証券報告書 (annual securities reports).