Hearts & Minds: The shareholder letters that are a message to the world

In his annual shareholders letter, Jamie Dimon targets Donald Trump’s tariffs. Dimon does not say what he thinks himself, but his missive has been seized upon, as it usually is, as a ‘view from the top’. It is tempting to follow suit, to address the wider picture. It is appealing. The yearly bulletin can be a pedestrian affair, box-ticking and formulaic; informed investors know what has occurred already. The desire to say something extra, to impart a bit of themselves, to take the opportunity and inject personality, can be strong. It’s a chance, on their terms, to show how they lead, why they were chosen.

That’s fine, provided they are comfortable with the dangers. It’s a public document, stray into anything involving social and political commentary and it will be reproduced. If you do it once, you must do it again – you can’t return to the same old format next year. Have you really got the self-confidence (and job security) to pull it off? In short, is it worth the bother? After all, ever since you rose the managerial ladder, it has been ingrained, to not speak out, ever.

Most address those considerations and others and decide against. Some, though, go ahead. Dimon can do it because he is Jamie Dimon, as can Larry Fink and Warren Buffett. Theirs are magisterial in length and tone, fixtures in the calendar, heavily scrutinised. The latest from Fink covers the private wealth markets, retirement planning and expanding access to investing. What made headlines, however, was what he chose not to address: ESG, climate change, sustainability and DEI.

Buffett’s is the exemplar. Entire books are devoted to the Berkshire Hathaway legend’s letters to shareholders. In them he imparts his wisdom and stock-picking philosophy, laced with humour and honesty. In 2009, he admitted to doing ‘some dumb things in investments.’ Said Buffett: ‘The tennis crowd would call my mistakes “unforced errors.”’

The Sage of Omaha’s reputation meant he could get away with it. In London, there was a City fund manager whose views were decidedly unwoke. He was speaking as he found, he thought as well that he was being funny. His message became a fixture, a cause célèbre for commentators, proof that the ‘old Square Mile’ remained alive. His stakeholders did not seem to mind; they would shrug, that’s the way he is. Until the fund’s performance waned. Then his opinions counted against him.

Chris Blackhurst is one of the UK’s foremost business journalists. He was previously Editor of The Independent and City Editor of the Evening Standard.