Bradford: built different?

There was something strikingly familiar about the tagline for Bradford Council’s ten-year regeneration and growth plan, Built Different. I was sure that I had come across it before. It felt like something from an action movie from the 80s or 90s, something that perhaps Arnie, Sly or Van Damme, in particular, would have said. Something like “he had to split”, “everybody can change” or “hunting season is over”.

I soon discovered that it wasn’t from that glorious heyday of muscular cinema and that built different, at least as I understood it, was in fact a more recent idiom. It was from an internet meme, one of those endless, compact, mass-disseminated, mass-reproduced, attention-grabbing, dopamine-tickling video clips that have come to loosely define a more atomised online culture whose chief unifying and underlining characteristic is its addictive, low-value, ultra-processed junk-like quality. 

The clip in question, which seems to have been at its most viral in the early 2020s, features a young man placing an egg between his left bicep and the antecubital fossa – and then swiftly crushing it with the kind of difficulty you experience when trying to reopen a stiff jar that won’t quite play ball.

The protagonist of the video is obviously not struggling “for reals” (or is that “for reels”?), but the feigned difficulty is nevertheless necessary to transform it from a mediocre video into, to use a trope, a scroll-stopping piece of content that ticks all the boxes for what is needed to get noticed online these days (other than right-wing, conspiratorial, insane ragebait that has destroyed the utopian idea of the internet of course).

It’s such a strange spectacle – surreal even – that it latches itself onto one’s prefrontal cortex (and not the hippocampus, which is more like a vacant lot no one wants to build on these days).

The egg cracks, a bright yellow bit of yolk flops onto the floor, an additional flex of the bicep is given – which, you know, to his credit (and not to sound like a gym bro), is very, very big  – and a deep-voiced pronouncement of “I’m built different” is made. And that’s it – no sooner has it started, it’s over (and onto the next video … art is long, content is not long, life is short).

It doesn’t matter who the guy is, what he does for a living, why he made the video or the brutal, honest fact that it’s a completely inane piece of content (which still plays, it has to be said, a small but effective role in keeping users hooked on platforms that serve up ads all second long – generating billions for big tech in turn). None of it really matters.

Its purpose is to be pointless, simply there to distract, subdue and to keep you happily entertained with the offer of inclusive participation if and when you’re not “creating” yourself (in liking, commenting, sharing, saving, posting, stitching and so on). It’s super easy and instantly rewarding. Reading, at length, about right-wing rhetoric has risen sharply in the UK parliament, for instance, isn’t.

While it’s a silly video, there’s something about the way built different is expressed, that fact that those words are used within the context of that video and, consequently, the partial if not principal truth of why it’s being said – to draw attention to his muscles at our expense (poor you with your spaghetti arms) – that opens up something of a window into the bizarre world of the self-help, wake up at 4am, looksmaxxing, chest thumping, body sculpting, rags to riches, overachieving, patriarchal manosphere of triumphant individualistic capitalism (who also read and journal).

Which, in some corners, as this absurdist, bite-sized video suggests, is capable of self-parody and humour. Examples of this include the fitness influencer Ashton Hall (self-parody), who, whatever his real motivations may be, does feel at times like he’s having fun at our (the viewer’s) expense, and the increasingly wild US president Donald Trump (humour), who is prone to lapsing into moments of impromptu (and more malign) comedy. “I’ve been indicted more times than Al Capone,” he has said. And people have laughed at this. Just. Google. It. (other search engines exist).

Accordingly, if we take that argument as fact, that a distinction is being made between a superior self and an inferior other when describing oneself as being built differently, then there’s clearly a very high degree of arrogant self-regard in claiming to be constructed in a unique way.

Or, as one Urban Dictionary definition describes it, you’re making a bold statement and that “you are on a completely different plane of existence in relation to the rest of these lame wannabes”. Or, as another example puts it, you are “the absolute best of the best, a unit that cannot be beat, outdone, or outfought … and frankly just better than anyone or anything else”. Or, for good measure, as explained by another, you’re “the most alpha chad within human existence. You do not accept normal motherfuckers”.

Is this the subtle sort of vibe – to use one of the more charming buzzwords of whatever era it is we’re living in – that Bradford Council was aiming for when pitching its ten-year regeneration and growth plan (and it is a pitch, an attempt to sell a vision to everyone from investors and businesses to residents-slash-voters and “core city” decision-makers)?

Given the propensity for local authorities to be characteristically and even understandably dull, as well as just plain odd and creakingly old-fashioned – although even at a parish level they can, on occasion, put the extra in extraordinary and help us from falling asleep or our minds from wandering – it’s intuitive to say no.

Yet, everything about built different, from the title of the plan itself to the nicely designed dynamic website, suggests that some effort has been made to work the comms on this specific plan a little harder than usual. And having spent a great deal of my career working for digital marketing agencies, built different by Bradford Council – which now sounds like an aftershave ad – does feel more like the handiwork of creatives than anyone at the council (though one, please do correct me if I’m wrong here and two, don’t take it as an insult).

(I also say this having not really come across anything like this from Bradford Council in the two years I’ve been reporting on the local authority, though, slight caveat, I don’t claim to be on top of everything that the council has said and done since relocating to West Yorkshire in 2021 from London via a year in a bungalow in Manchester during lockdown.)

In fact, most of the plans we’ve seen are, as you’d expect, very much free of any jazzed-up trimmings and quite literal. Take the 2021–2025 district plan for Bradford. It’s called the Bradford District Plan. Or how about the council plan for 2021–2025 (and yes, it gets a little confusing about all the plans that have and are being developed by the council). It’s called Our Council Plan. Then there’s the productivity plan from 2024. It’s called the Productivity Plan and looks like it’s been saved as a PDF straight from Word. There are no design elements whatsoever.

Accordingly, when you compare and contrast the above with the built different plan, a clear difference in style and tone emerges, as if it’s had something of a glow up. It looks and sounds a lot younger than the council typically does, like an older auntie or uncle trying to be hip.

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This isn't accidental. There is intent behind the makeover, as Susan Hinchcliffe, the current leader of the council, has acknowledged, stating, for instance, in the foreword to the plan, that “Bradford is positioning itself as a leading UK city, driven by innovation, culture and inclusive growth”.

But why then the apparent sudden change? Why is Bradford appearing to heed the advice of the fictional Mad Man Don Draper – who tells one client that “if you don’t like what’s being said [about you], change the conversation” – now, in 2026? And what does Hinchcliffe actually mean when she says that “Bradford is built different”?

The truth is that for many, many years, local and national government, despite their big promises – more recent examples from the occupiers of Number 10 include the 2015 northern powerhouse promise to close the gap between the north and the south and the 2021 levelling up agenda to “end geographical inequality” throughout the UK – have failed to deliver the kinds of changes desperately needed in deeply deprived cities like Bradford.

And this is even despite the fact that the local economy today is worth some £11.4 billion. Pockets across the district have always been way lighter than they ought to be.

Consequently, the former wool capital of the world is, in certain parts, as poor (if not poorer) today than it was yesterday – as it was in 2024 when more than a third of working age people in the city were found to be living in poverty when they died, as they were in 2018 when in discussing whether it could be the Shoreditch of Yorkshire it was noted that a third of adults are unemployed and 40% of its wards are in the poorest 20%, as it was in 2013 when Bradford was described as “a beleaguered city” in defence of it not being a crap city, as it was in 2011 when the author of a report by the Joseph Rowntree Foundation said that the “enduring poverty of Bradford needs to be tackled”, as it was – and this is a big jump back in time – in 1987, when the then Bradford West MP, Max Madden, observed that “men and women in full-time employment in Bradford receive appallingly low wages”.

Though facts are facts – “a child born into the poorest family can expect to live ten years less than a child born into the wealthiest” in Bradford – the council appears to be keener than ever to change the longstanding negative image that has come to be associated with the city – that it’s hopelessly grim and beyond saving.

Instead, it wants – sooner rather than later (although it is positioning this as a ten-year plan to raise its game) – to be seen by the public, investors, businesses and an alliance of 12 self declared “core cities” as a future-facing destination that will be transformed into “engine for growth” to the benefit of all (as that ole chestnut goes).

Or to sort of lend a line from the newish Green Party MP for Gorton and Denton, Hannah Spencer’s victory speech, to ensure that even though the spoils of labour will still largely go to shareholders and the owners of the proverbial means of production, working hard will indeed get more people (but not everyone) a nice house, a nice life, nice holidays and, one day, a nice retirement.

Because, as she acknowledged, the reality for folk in her neck of the woods as in our own backyard is the opposite: “People work hard … but can't put food on the table, can't get their kids school uniforms, can't put their heating on, can't live off the pension they worked hard to save for, can't even begin to dream about ever having a holiday, ever.”

The council has reasoned that a way out of this unforgiving, relentless and enduring crisis, which has been generally typified by stubbornly persistent and high levels of poverty, low wages, low skills, poor housing and public service (over)reliance – is through a strategic rebrand.

In other words, there is substance behind Bradford’s claim to be simultaneously and a little confusingly built differently right here and now in 2026 and to also be, via a commitment to a sort of Men’s Health-esque from fat to fab shock transformation, built differently in the foreseeable future.

That substance is the built different plan, which boldly declares that Bradford is not only no longer a below-average city – the social media pack claims, for instance, that it “already performs” like a big-hitter – but a super-duper core city in the making.

Which brings us back to the very essence of why Bradford is trying to look and sound different. The powers that be at the council have reasoned that the district needs a significant structural and visual overhaul if it wants to be accepted by this club of overachievers outside of London, which, they claim, currently “generates 25% of the economy” with the potential to add an additional £100 billion annually to UK GDP with even greater devolution.

The hope then is that if the plan truly pays off, the word association with Bradford will eventually be something akin to “think Bradford, think a city on the up, a city to stay and prosper in, a city to come to and build a life in”, as opposed to the usual slurs that are often lobbed its way and the unfavourable picture that is routinely painted about it (see, for example, this random social media post we chanced on researching this piece).

Can it be achieved? The glass-half-empty take would be no, nothing has materially changed over the many long years for those, in particular, who haven’t really ever experienced any of the positives of a local economy that is generating billions of pounds a year and/or have bore the biggest brunt of political blunders like the great misery of austerity and the overwhelming failure of Brexit (problematically signed off, in effect, by some of the voters hardest hit by both of those “experiments” at the ballot box).

However, if your glass is half full – and why shouldn’t it be and more power to you  – then absolutely, the built different plan is, thanks to the narrative changing impact of the City of Culture – “it gave us the chance to speak confidently for ourselves, highlighting the talents and strengths we have which had before remained hidden” (Hinchcliffe) – the answer everyone has long been looking for.

It is, we are told, in conjunction with (and made up in part of) the council’s other plans – because there always are other plans in motion, from the local plan and the council plan to the medium term financial plan and the climate action plan – the “roadmap” that will break Bradford’s long losing streak for everyone, from the most deprived to the so-called squeezed middle.

The plan is structured around four main drivers (culture, transport, skills and the regeneration pipeline) seven growth accelerators (Southern Gateway, Bradford Rail, Mass Transit, City Village, Transforming Towns, Airedale Hospital and Bradford Low Carbon Hydrogen) and three delivery themes (people, productivity and place).

At a glance it comes across as being an entirely new approach. On closer inspection, however, it’s clear that the plan is just the product of clever packaging, as built different is fundamentally made up of pre-existing ideas for generating growth (the four drivers) and separate, intersecting and overlapping projects (the seven “big game changers”).

They have simply been bundled together to give the impression of being collectively, comprehensively and cohesively unique, as if they’ve all been working towards the built different plan long before it was announced.

Meaning that in identifying a future as a core city is in Bradford’s best interests, the council has taken stock of what it’s up to, looked at the prerequisites of what’s needed to be part of the alliance and then made them fit within a certain timeframe.

Is there anything wrong with this? Although it feels, at least to me, a little cheeky in coming across as new, probably not. And the council has acknowledged to us (after some chasing) that built different “builds on the back of previous economic strategies … [and] much of the work the plan brings together has been subject to significant planning and preparation work”.

Put another way, Bradford has made a very good attempt at trying to make sense of everything that is happening across the district to drive more universally beneficial economic growth for people today, tomorrow and way beyond to see if it can be shaped into something more inspirational and deliberate. And it has landed on built different.

You can liken it to the way that organisations retroactively rewrite their stories with new mission statements to either tell a better story than, for instance, “we were founded to make lots of money” or to better articulate the businesses they have come versus the businesses that they once were.

And though Bradford Council isn’t in a position to rewrite its mission statement – it’s a statutory corporation created by Parliament to carry out specific duties with “no powers to act other than where they are expressly authorised by law” – it is in a similar sort of way with built different trying to present a more positive and hopeful image of the city (first) and district (second) to change the way people think and talk about it.

Cue: “Bradford is a district of real scale. Half a million people, a £12 billion economy. Driven by one of the youngest populations in the country and has the depth to play a bigger role in national growth. Larger than Liverpool and nearly twice the size of Newcastle, Bradford combines scale with momentum.”

Will the hype match the reality? It’s a cliché, but only time will and can tell – although even that statement comes with a slight caveat. What happens if there’s a change in leadership following the local elections in May?

Does the built different plan survive? And if it does survive, will it be the same one or will it be reimagined and reinterpreted in accordance with a different political sensibility (or lack of)? Or does the built different plan get dumped? And if it does get dumped, what if anything does it mean for the city-slash-district going forward? Will it still want to be a core city? Will it still want to celebrate its diversity? Will it ever escape its past?

I really don’t know. What’s pretty much certain (as anything can ever be) is that everything that is underway can (and does) still exist outside of the built different plan.

And, while this is a good thing, ensuring some continuity regardless of who ends up in charge of city hall after May, this again reveals the plan for what it is – more a mix of conventional wisdom (the four main drivers) and enterprising strategy (the seven accelerators) that will, in various ways, continue to slowly unfold both separately and connectedly, than as a single, conceptualised solution of interconnected parts.

Which is fine if they all pay off, as the council expects them to: “Bradford’s regeneration and growth plan tackles deep-rooted deprivation by investing in the places and people most affected, creating clear paths to rewarding work through strengthened skills and employment support and improving the quality of local neighbourhoods.

“By aligning the game-changing regeneration projects with accessible training, apprenticeships and employer-led programmes, the strategy ensures residents can move into better-paid and] secure jobs while benefiting from improved housing, transport and nature-rich public spaces.

“This combination of economic growth, targeted skills investment and community level improvements is designed to break long-standing cycles of disadvantage and raise household incomes across the district.”

Yet, without really knowing the complexities of what’s involved with, say, any of the gamechangers, like the kind of work that goes into developing a low carbon hydrogen production plant or the maddening levels of bureaucracy and communications that are required to get various sign-offs between all stakeholders, a little sense of urgency would do well to suggest that built different does mark a departure from the Bradford of old. Otherwise it really is business as usual.

I say this having taken a closer look at some of the ideas that are being presented as critical to the plan, like the Southern Gateway, which seem to be well thought out but largely contingent on future decisions and funding still come across as being closer to the drawing board than the proverbial spades going into the ground phase, and the much lauded mass transit system, which is already subject to delays long before any construction work has even been timetabled in let alone begun (phase one is now expected to kick off in the late 2030s).

That’s not to say no progress has been made but that even though there are clear economic benefits and value being created in the pre-development stages it’s unclear whether these initiatives are actually having an impact on people right now in terms of upskilling, employing and better paying those who the council say they’re targeting. I could be wrong and welcome Bradford to outline in detail how so.

To give the council its props, it’s fair to say that the transforming towns “project” has been having a quiet but meaningful impact (quotations included to reflect the post rationalisation of activity that preceded built different). In particular, both the Keighley Towns Fund and the Shipley Towns Fund have been awarding grants to a multitude of organisations, enabling them to invest in new equipment, refurbish buildings and create jobs.

These very localised interventions may well prove to be one of the most effective ways of “levelling up” communities via targeted financial support that responds to very specific needs and opportunities that collectively come together, piece by piece, to deliver long-lasting positive results for all. There’s a lot of good that can be done with £33.6 million and £25 million when it’s spent well in a strategic, sensible and thoughtful way that adapts to inevitable changes that reshape the world in profound ways. All you need is a little vision.

And that’s ultimately what Bradford council has outlined with built different, an ambitious vision for what the city and the wider district can be in the 21st century. All it now needs to do is deliver on each and every one of the key performance indicators it has listed across the three delivery themes of people, productivity and place by 2035 (which includes increasing the proportion of residents with level four plus qualifications from 41% to 48% (matching the core cities average) and growing total employment by 3% annually to reach approximately 271,000 jobs in 2035).

Failure to do so will inevitably leave the city with a metaphorical egg on its face. And if we’ve learnt anything from this essay, if there’s one takeaway for readers to take away, it’s that the only place an egg should be if you’re claiming to be a one of a kind, best of the best, trailblazing superstar of a city, is crushed between the middle of your arm.

Well, at least within the vertical frame of one of an infinite number of videos (everything is now television) that have transformed us into money-making machines caught between two worlds that are built very differently: one of chaotic existential reality and one of blissful ignorant fantasy. In a peculiar, flatlining age like ours, the appeal of the latter when the former fails to deliver is undeniable.

And what a shame that is.