Gov. J.B. Pritzker’s effort to reassure the public about his intentions is welcome, but not really necessary.

In these increasingly cynical — with ample justification — political times, there’s a new narrative about super-wealthy people who enter politics.

The suggestion is that they’re frequently in it for the money, that they intend to combine their existing wealth and connections with their newfound authority as elected officials to become even more wealthy than they already are.

That’s a far cry from what was said years ago about elected officials like former Vice President and New York Gov. Nelson Rockefeller and President John F. Kennedy. Even their critics never characterized them as avaricious. They, instead, argued that family or personal wealth helped insulate them from those who might try to influence public policy with promises of campaign contributions or lucrative investment opportunities.

That’s no longer the case. Now suspicions run deep.

Pritzker is trying to get ahead of those kind of charges with his recent announcement that he’s putting as much of his vast wealth as he can in a blind trust to reassure the public about his motives.

Pritzker said he has appointed Northern Trust Co. to act as an independent manager of his personal assets. At the same time, legal requirements that apply to his extended family wealth forbid Pritzker from taking similar action.

A Pritzker lawyer said the handling of the governor’s financial assets will be “as blind as the law allows,” meaning one eye will remain open with respect to family trusts that benefit more Pritzkers than just J.B.

Accounts of Pritzker’s decision provided another opportunity for news outlets to bash him for the secrecy that surrounds the vast family fortune.

Well, OK, skepticism is fine, particularly when it comes to people in power.

But, seriously, does anyone think that Pritzker — or Gov. Bruce Rauner before him — ran for office with the goal of increasing his net worth?

Pritzker, a multibillionaire, already is richer than God. He has so much money, it’s essentially meaningless to him, a mere means to an end. He could light cigars with $1,000 bills without a second thought. That’s why he spent around $170 million to win a job that pays, by his standards, a pittance he won’t accept.

Like Rauner before him, Pritzker may have a less-than-altruistic motive for running for governor — ego, power — but he is most assuredly not in it for the profit possibilities.

Indeed, reports out of Springfield indicate that Pritzker intends to supplement the salaries of top aides from his own fortune so they will feel adequately compensated as employees in his administration. (That’s what the ultra-wealthy Winthrop Rockefeller did when he was governor of Arkansas decades ago.)

And why not? It’s just more money Pritzker won’t miss — it’s chump change to him. If it helps him boost the quality of the people in his administration, it’s well worth the cost, because there is no cost he cannot bear with ease.

That’s not to say, of course, that there are not legitimate concerns about the ability of the ultra-wealthy to have an outsized impact on the political process.

Democrats complained bitterly four years ago when Rauner used his vast fortune to help win the GOP primary and then the general election.

For the 2018 election, they found a candidate — Pritzker — who is so rich that, in comparison, he makes Rauner look like a pauper. They used Pritzker’s vast fortune to build the political infrastructure needed to retake control of all of state government.

But using money as a means of helping the super-wealthy acquire power is far different than acquiring power for the purpose of helping the super-wealthy acquire more wealth.

That’s why Pritzker’s decision to put his personal wealth in a blind trust is more of an issue of perception than reality.

Whatever decisions he makes as governor — good or bad — won’t be driven by the profit motive. If only one could say the same for the vast majority of less-wealthy public officials in our corrupt state.