He lends to students banks reject, and they’re his best customers — here’s what John Tan knows that Wall Street doesn’t

This story is one of nine on The Peak Singapore’s Power List. The list is an annual recognition that celebrates and acknowledges individuals who have demonstrated exceptional leadership, influence, and impact.

The theme for the class of 2025 is Vanguards, spotlighting business leaders who are boldly reshaping their industries, questioning outdated norms, and pushing boundaries with vision and conviction. At a time when conformity is often rewarded and change met with resistance, these individuals choose to lead from the front — not for applause, but because the future demands it.

John Tan has stopped trying to explain poverty to the wealthy. After years of pitching to venture capitalists, the chief education officer of ErudiFi has reached a stark conclusion about bridging the comprehension gap between those who earn $20,000 monthly and those who survive on $200: “There’s really no good way to convince an Ivy-league educated venture capitalist there’s money to be made building products for low-income households and individuals.”

His solution is blindingly obvious: “It’s not a good use of our time trying to get VCs out of their bubbles. We move on.”

This isn’t resignation — it’s the pragmatism of a vanguard who’s learnt that changing minds takes longer than transforming lives. In Southeast Asia’s rapidly evolving financial landscape, Tan and ErudiFi are proving that the 90 million young people ignored by traditional banks aren’t just worthy of credit; they’re some of the most committed borrowers you’ll find.

At the heart of Tan’s work lies a challenge to one of banking’s most entrenched beliefs: “That the people banks won’t lend to are not worth lending to.” It’s a bias so fundamental it shapes entire economies, determining who escapes poverty and who remains trapped. ErudiFi’s model turns this assumption on its head by focusing on young adults and their families who’ve never borrowed before — precisely because they’ve never had anything worth borrowing until now.

“We disburse funds directly to our university partners, so the only reason these first-time borrowers come to us is because they see a college degree as their ticket to breaking out of the poverty cycle,” Tan explains. The commitment runs deeper than any credit score could measure. “They are committed to going to college and graduating from college. It’s life-changing not just for them, but also for their family and the circumstances they were born into.”

The data validates what Tan instinctively understood: poverty doesn’t predict default rates. “Just because they come from low-income backgrounds does not mean that default rate lending to this demographic is higher than typical consumer loans.”

Because loan repayment happens while students are still in college, families stay engaged and committed. “These students and their families are committed to paying back their loans because they want to graduate from college and start professional life.”

Between consumption and investment

One of Tan’s persistent frustrations is the financial industry’s failure to distinguish between different types of lending. “The difference between consumer loans and consumptive loans” remains, he says, one of the most misunderstood aspects of his work. “We lend to young adults (or their families), but the loans are not consumptive. Consumptive loans are loans for discretionary purchases like home electronics.”

Education loans occupy a category entirely different from others. “The funds we disburse directly to university partners can only be used for education purposes.” This distinction isn’t merely semantic — it’s fundamental to understanding why ErudiFi’s model works. “The demand for the education loans we offer is stable (and large), and the default rates are much lower than consumptive loans.”

Perhaps nothing illustrates the challenges facing social impact businesses better than ErudiFi’s catch-22 with institutional investors. Despite nearly 60,000 students being funded over seven years, despite proven low default rates, and despite the clear social impact, the company faces a familiar refrain from development institutions: it is too small to invest in.

“Meanwhile, organisations like International Finance Corporation tell us we are doing great work, but they can only invest when our loan book gets to a certain size,” Tan notes with evident frustration. “If the largest global development institution focused on emerging markets is not backing us because we’re too small, how do we become big?”

It’s a question that exposes the contradictions in impact investing — institutions designed to support social good demanding the scale that only traditional investment can provide. For Tan, it’s particularly galling given the massive unmet need. Those 90 million ignored youth aren’t abstractions; they’re potential engineers, doctors, teachers, and entrepreneurs waiting for a chance that may never come. 

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The education entrepreneur’s dilemma

Tan’s journey to ErudiFi wasn’t straightforward. His previous venture focused on life skills education — the kind of holistic learning experts agree children need, but parents rarely want to pay for. The experience left him with hard-won wisdom about the gap between building what you believe in and building what people need.

“I was probably too optimistic about the prospects of technology startups becoming multimillion-dollar businesses,” he reflects. “The tech may exist, but the gap between having the tech and building something a large number of people is willing to pay for is huge.”

The market wanted more tuition — more cramming, more test prep, more of what Tan saw as part of the problem. “Unfortunately, the alternative of giving people what they want (more tuition) didn’t appeal to me. It’s almost like selling tobacco product — you know it’s bad, but it’s lucrative — can you live with yourself?”

At ErudiFi, he’s found a rare alignment between market demand and social good. “The irony is that at ErudiFi, we have a product millions of young people are willing to pay for (education loans), but we can’t scale this product because we are limited by lending capital.”

Behind the statistics

Whilst Tan speaks of millions and market gaps, what drives him are the individual transformations rarely captured in press releases. Shiela Marie Santos, pursuing International Tourism Management at Our Lady of Fatima University, embodies thousands of similar stories: “From the moment I stepped onto the college, I knew my path would be different. My parents, despite their love and support, couldn’t afford the rising costs of tuition. So, I chose to become a working student.”

Her pre-ErudiFi reality was brutal: “It meant sacrificing free time, sleep and, oftentimes, my social life. The exhaustion was relentless, and the weight of financial responsibility was heavy. There were times I felt overwhelmed, moments when I questioned if I could keep up.”

The Bukas student loan (ErudiFi’s Philippine brand) changed everything. “It’s a relief to know that I no longer have to resort to desperate measures to fund my education.” Her conclusion resonates with quiet power: “It’s a story of sacrifice, hard work, and the unwavering belief in the power of education to transform lives.”

Multiply Santos by 60,000, and you begin to understand what Tan means when he talks about lives changed.

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Of power and responsibility

When asked about power, Tan’s response reveals the philosophy underpinning his work. It’s not about disruption or domination but something more fundamental: “That power comes with responsibility.”

He elaborates with a list that reads like a personal manifesto: “Responsibility to help the needy. Responsibility to stand up to evil. Responsibility to protect the environment. Responsibility to future generations.”

In an era where power often means the ability to extract value, Tan represents a different model — power as the capacity to create opportunity where none existed before. This philosophy translates into a vision that is both radical and achingly simple.

“If it worked the way it should, every young person who has the ambition to go to college should be able to, regardless of family circumstances,” Tan says, describing his vision for education financing. It’s deceptively simple and revolutionary in its implications.

The path to that vision isn’t through disrupting the financial system but by proving it wrong, one loan at a time. Where banks see risk, ErudiFi sees commitment. Where VCs see tiny margins, Tan sees transformed generations. Where development institutions see insufficient scale, 60,000 families see opened doors.

Being a vanguard, Tan demonstrates, isn’t always about leading charges into new territories. Sometimes, it’s about standing firm in neglected ones, building bridges for those who’ve been told they’re not worth the investment. In a region where education remains the surest path out of poverty, John Tan isn’t just financing degrees — he’s underwriting futures that traditional finance has written off.

The bubble he’s truly bursting isn’t technological or financial. It’s the assumption that some people aren’t worth betting on. In proving that assumption wrong, loan by loan, life by life, Tan embodies what it means to be a vanguard: not only seeing the future differently but making it accessible to those who need it most.

For more stories on The Peak Power List, visit here.