How Japan pioneered the global phenomenon of entrepreneur pitch shows like Dragons’ Den

Before Dragons’ Den in the UK became a global hit and America’s Shark Tank turned startup pitches into mainstream entertainment, there was Manē no Tora (Tiger of Money or Money Tigers). Launched in Japan in 2001 by Nippon TV and Sony Pictures Television, this groundbreaking show introduced the format of entrepreneurs pitching their business ideas to a panel of angel investors.

Little did anyone know that Money Tigers would spark a global trend, influencing how high-growth entrepreneurship is perceived and celebrated around the world. In February 2024, the original backers announced that the 50th version of the franchise would launch in Bangladesh. And the 22nd season of Dragons’ Den premiers on the BBC on January 2.

Money Tigers wasn’t just about creating riveting television. Its emergence was rooted in a broader societal and governmental push to transform Japan’s economic culture. Against the backdrop of a traditionally risk-averse society and an economy dominated by large corporations, Money Tigers aimed to normalise and even glamorise entrepreneurship.

It was accompanied by a wider set of government initiatives to foster innovation, boost entrepreneurial activity, and position Japan as a global leader in technology and startups. The show was part of the rise of what my colleague Ramon Pacheco Pardo and I call “startup capitalism”, an age in which startups have played a central role in the competitiveness of market economies.

The origin of Money Tigers

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Japan was at an economic crossroads. The burst of the asset bubble in the early 1990s had led to prolonged economic stagnation known as the “Lost Decade”.

Policymakers recognised the need to diversify the economy, create jobs, and promote innovation. Startups, with their potential for agility and creativity, as well as their ability to create jobs for talented young people, became a focal point of this shift. Startups also offered an ability to infuse innovative ideas and talent into Japanese corporations as they competed in global markets.

Policy initiatives including tax incentives for startup investments, a change to regulations that allowed “pension fund portability”, and an introduction of American-style employee stock options, were part of an effort to enable entrepreneurship.

But a culture that discouraged risk-taking and a regulatory environment that punished job movement could not be changed overnight. SoftBank’s Masayoshi Son was becoming synonymous with this new breed of brash, risky business. And, while a hero to some, Masa (as he is now globally known) was controversial. He was a challenger to Japan’s economic culture and the way business was done.

So, how could public policy encourage a new generation of risk-takers willing to embrace the uncertainties of starting a business? And how could starting a business be something that a top Japanese graduate could tell their parents about without being ostracised?

Enter Money Tigers. A bold experiment, the show aimed to bring entrepreneurship into living rooms – and the conversations of family and friends – across Japan.

Its format was simple but powerful: aspiring entrepreneurs presented their business ideas to a panel of wealthy angel investors, or “tigers”, who had the power to fund these ideas in exchange for equity. The drama of negotiation, the tension of rejection, and the triumph of securing an investment made for compelling viewing.

The genius of Money Tigers lay in its ability to humanise the entrepreneurial journey. Viewers saw ordinary people take bold steps to turn their dreams into reality. The tigers, seated on the other side of a table, represented a mix of skepticism, curiosity and mentorship. Their probing questions and candid feedback not only added drama but also educated the audience about what makes a business viable.

For many Japanese viewers, Money Tigers was their first exposure to the concept of pitching for investment. Terms like “equity”, “valuation” and “return on investment” entered mainstream conversation. Building a business with ambitious growth plans, perhaps once frowned upon as being too focused on making money, was portrayed in a more endearing way.

By showcasing both the successes and failures of entrepreneurs, the show began to chip away at the stigma surrounding failure and around the ambitious founder. Entrepreneurs who walked away empty-handed were often praised for their courage, a message that resonated especially with younger generations.

The show complemented policy initiatives. Between 1997 and 2001, the Japanese government launched a litany of policy initiatives, including tax incentives for angel investors and the establishment of the startup-friendly stock exchanges. Where these government policies created the infrastructure for startups to thrive, Money Tigers tackled the stickier cultural setting.

While still modest relative to the size of the Japanese economy, innovative entrepreneurship has become more common in Japan. The country now has several startups worth over US$1 billion (unicorns) and some of the world’s best-known venture capital firms have established outposts in Japan.

The global legacy

Money Tigers lasted only a few seasons in Japan (it stopped running in 2003), but its impact was profound. The format was adapted in the UK as Dragons’ Den in 2005 and later in the US as Shark Tank in 2009. According to Nippon TV and Sony, as of February 2024, “almost US$1 billion (£790,000) in investments has been agreed in Dens and Tanks across the globe since the format launched”.

The early 2000s was a period of purposive government efforts to ensure that Japan’s technological innovations did not succumb to the “Galapagos Syndrome”. There was a sense that Japan was developing state-of-the-art technologies, but global consumer markets were not necessarily picking up the innovations.

Ironically, in the same period that Japan was pushing to normalise entrepreneurship and equity investment through an endearing TV programme for its Japanese audience, it was inventing an export that would be a huge hit abroad without widespread awareness that it was Japanese. Audiences in the UK and US assumed that Dragons’ Den and Shark Tank were natural products of their entrepreneur-rich ecosystems.

But rather than the Sharks and Dragons being a natural product of their markets, they were an adaptation of a state-encouraged, purposeful effort to drive cultural change in Japan.

Robyn Klingler-Vidra does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.