InterviewThink 'can-do' and find way: Blind Wall Street analyst talks about life, resilience

Soonkyu Shin, a vice president credit analyst at private investment bank Brown Brothers Harriman and author of three essay collections / Courtesy of Panmidong

Soonkyu Shin’s life story might at first sound like a classic tale of hardship and heroic triumph — all too easy to flatten into drama.

Shin lost his eyesight completely at age 9. At his mother’s urging, he began learning the piano, and by 15, with the help of an American missionary, he left on his own for the United States. Once there, he found himself drawn not to the piano but to the workings of the human mind, studying psychology at Harvard with hopes of becoming a psychiatrist. But that dream died when new medical guidelines required physicians to examine and diagnose patients without any outside assistance — a standard that effectively closed the profession to blind candidates.

After a period of searching, he pivoted to the psychology of business as a Ph.D. student at MIT Sloan in management and organizational studies. Before he got his degree, opportunities led him to Wall Street, working at JPMorgan and then Brown Brothers Harriman, where he has been a credit analyst for the past three decades.

Shin stresses that his life is distant from the typical narratives often imposed on disabled people.

“My life is not like that. There’s no overdramatic story of incredible hardships and triumphs against overwhelming odds,” he told The Korea Times in a recent interview in Seoul. “I’ve just been incredibly blessed with the people who have crossed my path, from my birth parents to my American parents, teachers, friends and coworkers. So the phrase ‘self-made’? I’m nothing like that. I’m ‘others-made,’ in a way.”

Instead, he thinks of a mantra that has guided him for decades and became the title of his latest essay collection: “Think Can-do and Find a Way.” The book follows “Things You See with Your Eyes Closed” (2015) and “Shining Through the Darkness” (2021).

The phrase first came to him from an archery teacher, but the mindset had been with him long before he heard it spoken out loud. “This has become such a natural way of operating,” he said. “If there was a thing I wanted to do, something my blindness made impossible or even a little ridiculous, I always tried to say, ‘There’s gotta be a way to do this.’”

At 13, he was invited to play the piano at an event hosted by Lions Clubs International in Seoul. The guests of honor were from Singapore, and Shin was asked if he could play their national anthem.

“Remember, this was before the internet, before Google. I thought, ‘All right, between now and next week, I need to learn the Singaporean anthem. How am I going to do this?’”

He decided to head to the public telephone booth and call directory assistance to find the number for the Singaporean Embassy. Once connected, he explained his situation and asked if someone could sing the anthem to him. Using the recording he made from the call, he learned to play it.

“Whether I got the chords right, I don’t know,” Shin said with a chuckle. “But based on the melody, I played the anthem. And the guests were delighted and astonished. People say that wasn’t doable back in 1980, but I basically dared to call the embassy of a country and asked them to sing their song to me. There’s always a way.”

A gifted storyteller, Shin fluidly moves between discussions of politics, technology and the origins of YANA (You Are Not Alone) Ministry — the nonprofit he founded to support orphaned and abandoned children in Korea. What follows is an edited and condensed version of that conversation.

The cover of Soonkyu Shin's latest essay collection, "Think Can-do and Find a Way" (2025) / Courtesy of Panmidong

Q. It’s been four years since the release of your last essay collection, where you shared reflections meant to help readers stay resilient during the pandemic. Back then, COVID-19 felt like the worst global crisis of our time. But since then, the world has faced even more turbulence: wars, polarization, political extremism. How do you see the state of the world today?

A. Change has always been with us, but the speed of change has accelerated. I think the biggest crisis we’re facing today is that we no longer know what’s true and what isn’t. Everything can be twisted. And beyond the issue of truth versus falsity, there’s this: children today are taught to see the world as ‘us versus them.’

When we were in high school, we were taught to respect people who held different truths. Voltaire’s belief is often summed up as, “I disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” That kind of thinking engenders civility — a decency that allows for a diversity of thought.

So when I speak at schools, I tell students that when someone tells you something, ask yourself two questions. Is what this person saying making me afraid, angry or hostile toward some group of people? And does the person benefit from my believing or accepting what they’re saying? Those are red flags. I think it’s inevitable that we’re used or manipulated by someone, but you should be the one choosing by whom you will be used or manipulated.

Q. How have technological advances, from algorithmic targeting to social media, fueled this state of polarization?

A. I used to love Facebook. In the early days, it was a way to reconnect with long-lost friends. But once the algorithms began to kick in, everything changed. They’re designed to show you whatever will generate more “engagement” and increase ad revenue. The algorithm isn’t driven by your interest or your well-being; it’s driven by their bottom line.

And it’s not just that. People react much more strongly, and much more frequently, to content that is dramatic, shocking or divisive. So the problem isn’t technology itself — it’s how technology is used. When you absorb this constantly, your personality shifts. Your outlook shifts. I think we should all be very afraid of that.

There’s a book by social psychologist Jonathan Haidt called “The Anxious Generation.” He argues that kids who grow up with social media while their brains are still forming end up with a different mental makeup from prior generations, and that’s why they’re so anxious.

Q. But some technological advancements have brought meaningful benefits for people with disabilities. How do you think technology, including AI, can better serve the socially marginalized?

A. Screen-reader technology, for instance, has allowed me to get a solid education and work in a highly competitive industry. But the people driving innovation can’t always design for the full spectrum of human needs.

If something — an app, a device — is made easier or more intuitive for sighted users, it often becomes harder for blind people. But I think this is just a phase. As AI improves to the point where you can simply speak to a device to get things done, the benefits will become much more democratic.

Take ATMs as an example. When I was in college, they had physical buttons, so I could withdraw cash easily. Once everything shifted to touch screens, it became impossible. A task that takes 30 seconds for a sighted user can take five minutes for us. Tesla is the same; everything is a touch screen. But eventually, even those systems will be voice-driven.

Designers used to imagine only one kind of user: someone who can see, hear and use both hands. But today, whether because of regulation, consumer demand or simple awareness, they increasingly recognize users who cannot do certain things. When a company like Apple builds VoiceOver accessibility into its devices, it pushes Google to improve Android accessibility. When LG designs home appliances with broader needs in mind, their competitors have to follow. That’s the natural evolution of a market-driven economy. So I’m hopeful.

Q. You founded YANA Ministry to support children from childcare institutions in 2012. What significance does it hold in a country like Korea, where adoption rates remain low?

A. Around 2008, I met a young pastor at our church who was passionate about helping children growing up in Korea’s childcare institutions. He began taking American high school students to Korea during the summers to run English vacation Bible school programs. To be honest, I didn’t even know Korea still had orphanages in 2008. In my mind, orphanages were postwar institutions caring for war orphans. I knew that poverty in the ’60s and ’70s led a number of parents to surrender their children, but by 2008, Korea was the world’s 14th-largest economy. So when I learned there were still about 20,000 children in these group homes, I was astonished.

The pastor told us about what happens when these kids turn 18 and must leave the homes. Overnight, they have to become adults. I learned about the reality they face — the prejudice attached to growing up in an orphanage, the lack of educational and vocational opportunities. I thought, “This is incredibly similar to the challenges blind people faced when I was growing up.” My wife and I agreed that this is where we need to reach out our hands.

I’ve always said that before we insist on equality, we should try to lessen inequality. It felt incredibly unfair that I’ve essentially had two families supporting me all my life — a family in Korea and a family in the United States — while these children have none.

In 2012, we founded YANA Ministry. What I really wanted was to replicate my own story. My American parents took me in with no paperwork, no legal process. They welcomed a complete stranger and “adopted” me as their own. And that bond is still alive today. I wanted to create that kind of family connection for some of these kids. And before asking others to do it, we felt we had to do it first ourselves. So in 2014, we brought over Yejin, our daughter. She came technically as an international student, but we became her family. We supported her and educated her. She’s a very practical young woman; today she’s a nurse at Dartmouth Medical Center in New Hampshire. At the moment, about 130 children are connected with sponsors in the U.S. through YANA.

Since last year, we’ve expanded beyond Korea. The world is big, and the need is great. We’re now working in Indonesia and Ukraine. We’ve brought graduates of Jakarta International University who grew up in orphanages to the U.S. for internship opportunities. In Ukraine, we’re running a cafe where children can come for nourishment — not just food, but comfort and learning. At the heart of it all is one principle: we want to build relationships that last. We want to become as close to family as possible for these kids, which means committing to them for life.

Q. Are there plans for a fourth book?

A. Yes, I’m hoping to publish it before the Fourth of July next year. It will tell the story of my American journey. Over the years, so many people have made my life possible — all Americans embodying what I call the typical American mindset of kindness and decency. Despite what we often hear in the media today, the America I’ve known and experienced is still very much alive; it’s just drowned out by those who scream louder and spin more dramatic stories designed to divide and anger.

What’s happening today in the U.S. is exactly what must not happen in a country like this. As a superpower, there should be a code of conduct, explicit or not. Sadly, that’s not the reality right now. I believe and hope this is just a phase. After all, the country is only 200 years old. What we’re seeing is a pendulum swinging from one extreme to the other. I’m hopeful that the pendulum will soon swing back toward a more reasonable center.

In the next book, I want to share the pillars that have sustained me. One is my faith. Another is the country I’ve adopted as my own and that has, in turn, adopted me as one of its own. For this one, I’m hoping to publish it not just in Korean but also in English.