The Illusion of Benevolence: Unmasking the SJP Sales Pitch Disguised as Financial Advice

Mark FitzPatrick, CEO of St. James’s Place (SJP), recently took to LinkedIn with a rallying cry for the financial advice industry. His post, complete with a video brimming with grandiose rhetoric and self-congratulatory fanfare, felt like watching a self-help seminar hosted by a used car salesman—oozing confidence but utterly devoid of conscience.

The essence of FitzPatrick’s sermon? The public is wrong about the financial advice industry. Apparently, we’ve all been “misperceiving” it as a bastion of profit-driven product sales. The true mission, he insists, is altruistic: helping people make better financial decisions. Cue the fanfare.

Yet, the reality is less noble. SJP, a business model entrenched in commission-driven sales and ongoing fees, appears to be repackaging the same old profit machine in the shiny new wrapping of “Real-Life Advice.” Their Real-Life Advice Report—a sprawling consumer survey—makes sweeping claims about the transformative power of financial advice. It cites clients who are “delighted” with their service, even if they couldn’t tell you what they’re paying for it.

According to SJP, the public must “change their perception” of an industry many rightly distrust. The very consumers who see advisers as salespeople are labelled “lazy, uninformed, or naïve.” It’s not that the industry has a credibility problem; no, it’s the consumers who fail to appreciate the benevolence of advice professionals flogging them products they don’t need.

SJP’s argument that clients with advice are “better off” conveniently ignores a crucial fact: advisers often cherry-pick wealthier clients. The causation here is suspect. Wealthier clients don’t become rich because of advice—they attract advisers because they’re already rich.

And when FitzPatrick proclaims, “This is what the future of advice could look like,” one can’t help but shudder. It feels less like a glimpse into a brighter tomorrow and more like a nostalgic ode to the glory days of mis-selling.

SJP's so-called advice often comes with a hefty price tag—layered fees for investments that sometimes become inaccessible when funds close. Clients are left holding the bag while SJP continues to dip into their savings.

And then there’s the convenient moral high ground of discouraging clients from cashing in investments. Disciples frame this as “help given without financial incentive.” Let’s pause for a moment: if clients cash out, advisers lose their ongoing fees. This altruism has a suspiciously lucrative undercurrent.

The post concludes with FitzPatrick’s three-point manifesto:

1. Attract and train more financial advisers. (Translation: grow the salesforce.)

2. Fill the gap between guidance and holistic advice. (Translation: sell more products under the guise of “guidance.”)

3. Launch a coordinated campaign to change perceptions. (Translation: gaslight the public into thinking this is all for their benefit.)

And let’s not forget the disciples in the comments section. They line up to cheer FitzPatrick’s vision, with comments as uniform as they are sycophantic. One even likens the industry’s role to changing lives—though whether that change is for better or worse seems to depend on your vantage point.

Mark FitzPatrick’s post is a masterclass in corporate spin. It takes an industry riddled with conflicts of interest, slaps on a veneer of nobility, and hopes no one notices the cracks.

But the cracks are glaring. Consumers aren’t lazy or uninformed—they’re wary, and rightly so. Until the industry stops prioritising sales over service and aligns its interests with those of its clients, no amount of PR gloss will fix its trust problem.

As for FitzPatrick’s vision of the future? One can only hope it doesn’t involve dragging us back to the heyday of commission-driven sales forces. The public deserves better than a rebranded relic of the past.