Readiness Theatre
Part 1: The Foundation That Is Always Almost Ready
This is part 1 of the third essay in The Depth Layer, a series that reads AI through the lens of systems psychodynamics. Each article moves between the personal and the organizational. What you are experiencing in your own work is examined through what the larger system is doing around you, because the two are not separate phenomena. The series gives you language and frame to read both at once.
The room that we described in the last article now reconvenes. The decision that kept not getting made is still not made, but the room no longer looks stuck. It looks busy. There is a readiness assessment on the screen, more complete than last quarter. There are work streams. There is a maturity model with the organization at level two, climbing toward three. Everyone can see the motion. What no one can see is what the motion is protecting them from. The room has found a way to keep not deciding that looks exactly like getting ready to decide.
In 1960, a psychoanalyst named Isabel Menzies Lyth was asked into a London teaching hospital to find out why its student nurses kept breaking down and leaving. What she found was a system built, with real care, to protect nurses from the anxiety of the work. Tasks were divided so finely that no nurse stayed with any one patient long enough to feel the loss of them. The structure worked. It lowered the anxiety. It also made it impossible for a nurse to ever grow competent at bearing what the job asked her to bear. More than sixty years later, the readiness matrix does the same thing to the organization.
This is what I like to call Readiness Theatre: the organized performance of preparation. It is the assessments and frameworks and foundation-first roadmaps an organization produces to look ready while postponing the work that would make it ready.
This is the third piece in the Depth Layer series and the first half of a two-part read. Part 1 is the diagnosis. By the end of it, you will be able to recognize Readiness Theatre while you are standing inside it. Name the particular anxiety it exists to manage, and why the obvious fix, more preparation, is the very thing keeping the organization, and you and your team, in place. Part 2 follows in two weeks and turns to what to do instead: where authority has to sit, what the identity stakes really are, and the practical shifts that convert performed readiness into the real thing.
If you lead a transformation, advise one, or sit near a steering committee that keeps concluding it is not yet ready, this is written for the seat you are in. Part 1 offers what everything else is depending on: sight. You cannot stop performing readiness until you see the performance, and you cannot see it while you believe the next assessment will be the one that finally makes you ready.
The Performance of Readiness
Readiness Theatre, Why Organizations Rehearse Instead of Begin
Call it the “almost ready” foundation. It is the organizational state in which every precondition for starting appears almost in place, and thus starting can perpetually be deferred.
Readiness Theatre is a specific case of something the psychodynamic literature named long ago: a social defence. The term describes how institutions build anxiety management directly into their operating structures, in ways that look like function but primarily serve to protect members from the distress that genuine engagement would produce.
The key, and this is exactly Menzies Lyth’s finding, is that a social defence is not fake work. The nurses’ tasks and task lists were real nursing, just like the task lists of preparation for change. If this looked like avoidance, it would get challenged. Because it builds toward the desired change, it is viewed by the participants as necessary. The activity having real meaning is not evidence against its being a defence. It is the precondition. The activity becomes a defence at the hinge point where preparation starts substituting for engagement, where the work’s pace and scope are governed less by the task and more by how much anxiety can be tolerated.
The inquiry behind that finding is older than the 1960 date suggests. It starts in the 1940s, with Wilfred Bion observing small groups at the Tavistock and seeing that a group works to manage its own anxiety at least as hard as it works on its task. Elliott Jaques gave the idea its theoretical spine in 1955: “One of the primary cohesive elements binding individuals into institutionalized human association,” he wrote, “is that of defence against psychotic anxiety.” Menzies Lyth supplied the proof. The nursing study we opened with is still cited because it caught an entire social system in the act, every safeguard on the ward defensible on its own terms and, together, doing a different job than the one on the label.
[The defences] inhibit the full development of the individual’s understanding, knowledge, and skills that enable reality to be handled effectively and pathological anxiety mastered.
Menzies Lyth, 1960
The task-list system is the maturity matrix. The frequent rotation is the governance restructure. The checking procedures are the adoption dashboard. Each ritual reduces immediate anxiety by substituting a manageable task for the unmanageable one. Each, in doing so, prevents the organization from developing the capacity it was designed to build.
Institutions, then, are not only rational structures organized around productive tasks. They are also anxious structures organized, in part, around what their members cannot face. The tasks and the defences coexist, and from the outside they are often indistinguishable.
The line runs forward as cleanly as it runs back: James Krantz brought the same pattern into the twenty-first-century organization in 2010, and Manfred Kets de Vries mapped the inner theatre of denial it depends on. The digital transformation literature treats the pattern as a failure of method. The genealogy treats it as a feature of how human groups respond to anxiety they have not yet built the capacity to metabolize.
The standard framework for understanding organizational change does not account for this. Kurt Lewin’s unfreezing-changing-refreezing model, and its descendants including Kotter’s eight-step process, treat readiness as a precondition: you unfreeze the system, then you change it. The unfreezing is a managerial act that can be planned and completed. The evidence says otherwise. Ronald Heifetz, whose work on adaptive leadership provides the clearest accessible bridge between management theory and the psychodynamic literature, identified the structural error at the core of this assumption. Readiness Theatre, in Heifetz’s terms, is a misclassification: organizations treat an adaptive challenge as a technical one.
A technical challenge can be addressed by expertise. A skills gap, a tooling deficit, a process redesign: these are technical. They have solutions. An adaptive challenge requires something different. It demands changes in values, beliefs, and behavior throughout the organization, beyond the acquisition of new capabilities by designated people. The challenge of AI adoption, for most organizations, is adaptive. The question underneath the adoption question is not “Can our people use the tool?” It is: “Who are we when this tool changes what expertise means? Who has authority when the knowledge hierarchy shifts? What is the role of experience when the machine can replicate its outputs in seconds?”
These are questions that no capability assessment can answer, because they can only be answered by engaging with the change itself.
Bion’s groups are worth returning to, because they supply the mechanism that makes Readiness Theatre structurally inevitable rather than merely possible. The observations he began in the 1940s, collected in Experiences in Groups in 1961, described how every group operates at two levels at once: the work group, oriented toward the stated task, and the basic assumption group, organized around an unconscious shared aim that subverts it. Three basic assumption states recur. The dependency assumption: the group waits for a leader to resolve what only the group itself can resolve. The fight-flight assumption: the group unites against an identified threat instead of engaging with the actual difficulty. The pairing assumption: the group invests in a relationship or a future deliverable that will, somehow, save it from the present discomfort.
Bion described the dependent group with a precision that reads as organizational case study:
The group concentrates at first on establishing this idea of doctor and patients as firmly as it can; it conforms to a strict discipline, imposed ad hoc, being careful to limit conversation severely to topics that are not important except in so far as they support the view that patients are talking to a doctor; thus would the group establish a sense that the situation is familiar and unchanging.
Bion, 1961
Substitute “readiness steering committee” for therapeutic group. Substitute “maturity model” for the doctor-patient preconception. The structure is identical. The committee pegs itself to familiar forms, the framework, the dashboard, the phased roadmap, precisely to prevent the more threatening group dynamics from surfacing. The group, as Bion noted elsewhere in the same volume, is “aware how easily and spontaneously it structures itself in a manner suitable for acting on these basic assumptions unless steps are taken to prevent it.”
A readiness steering committee operating under the dependency assumption waits for the consultant, or the CHRO, or the CEO, to tell it what readiness means. It generates work product that performs its own seriousness. And it defers the work group state, the state in which the actual challenge is engaged, indefinitely.
Russ Vince and Mike Broussine, writing in 1996 from empirical fieldwork in six UK public sector organizations, put the organizational-language version of this simply: “Managerial reliance on problem solving and technical skill is itself an expression of the defensive wish in the business community that uncertainty can be controlled.” The readiness framework is that reliance, institutionalized. It makes the uncertainty look bounded. It makes the anxiety look managed. And it prevents both.
Readiness Theatre is structural. It is how organizations under genuine pressure almost always respond, because the alternative, genuine engagement with an adaptive challenge, produces anxiety that the organization has not yet built the capacity to metabolize. The theater protects. It serves a function. The question is what it protects against.
That question is where the real work starts.
What “Not Ready” Is Actually Saying
Naming the Defended Territory
When a senior leader says their organization is not yet ready for AI, they are almost always telling the truth. They are simply describing something other than what they think they are describing.
The statement “we are not ready” presents itself as an operational assessment: capabilities are insufficient, infrastructure is incomplete, training has not been delivered. Measured against those criteria, the statement checks out. The maturity model confirms it. The readiness assessment confirms it. And so the work of closing the gaps begins.
What the statement is actually carrying, beneath the operational layer, is a set of three undeclared organizational realities. First: authority over the change has not been clearly held. Someone commissioned the AI program, but no one has taken up the authority to say, unambiguously, that the work has begun and that people are accountable for engaging with it. Second: there is no container for the anxiety the change is generating. The deployment is proceeding, but the emotional territory it is opening up, who am I in this new landscape, what does my role mean, what happens to the value I have accumulated, is unaddressed and unaddressable inside the current structures. Third: role clarity is absent at precisely the level where the change is most threatening. People know their job titles. They do not know what their jobs are when the AI is doing what they were doing last year.
These three realities are the conditions that readiness work itself needs to address. They sit beyond the reach of any assessment. Naming them as readiness gaps mistakes the diagnosis for the cure.
Edgar Schein’s work on organizational learning provides the framework for why “not ready” carries this weight. In his 1992 analysis of why organizations struggle to learn faster, Schein distinguished two types of anxiety that operate in any change process. The first he called Anxiety 1: the anxiety provoked by the prospect of learning something new, of entering unfamiliar territory, of being temporarily incompetent. This anxiety drives the defenses.
To avoid this anxiety, we deny the problem, or simplify it to something we can cope with even if that distorts the problem, or project the problem onto someone else, or in various other defensive ways manage not to learn.
Schein, 1992
The readiness framework is this avoidance, given organizational form. It accepts the change at face value and then simplifies it to something manageable: a skills gap, a process gap, a technology gap. It projects the problem outward, onto infrastructure and tooling. The identity and authority questions that the change is actually raising stay outside the frame.
Schein also identified what he called the “learning anxiety” at the individual level: the fear that if you truly engage with the new, you will lose competence, status, and coherence of self before you gain anything in their place. The fear is rational. In most significant organizational transitions, it is accurate. You will be less competent before you are more competent. You will be uncertain about your role before you are clear about it. The readiness framework offers a way to manage that period without living through it. Which is why it proliferates.
Schein was equally clear about what this costs. “Insight does not automatically change behavior,” he observed, “and until behavior has changed and new results have been observed, we do not know whether what we are learning cognitively is valid or not.” The readiness assessment produces cognitive insight. It describes the gap. It names the distance between current state and target state. And it leaves the organization exactly where it was, because insight without engagement maps the gap and stops there.
This maps directly to what researchers are now finding in AI adoption data. Eatough et al., in their 2026 survey of organizational AI adoption, found that four in ten employees strongly believe in AI’s business value while simultaneously fearing what it means for their own security and relevance. The belief and the fear are simultaneous: people understand the business case and are managing the personal cost at the same time. High usage rates can coexist with low genuine adoption because the behavioral engagement is performative, the participation withheld. The employee is using the tool in the ways the metric requires while protecting the professional identity the tool threatens.
The three undeclared realities underneath “we are not ready” map cleanly onto this pattern. Authority has not been taken up, so people take their cues from informal signals where formal mandate would otherwise sit. They read the room for what AI use costs socially and adjust their behavior accordingly, while disengaging from what it might produce professionally. There is no container for the anxiety, so the anxiety is managed individually and defensively, kept beneath the surface of any place where it could be worked with. And role clarity is absent, so people hold tightly to the professional identity they have, protecting it against the risk that engagement would carry.
Bion’s basic assumption states illuminate the specific texture of this defended territory. The organization saying “we are not ready” is often a system in the dependency assumption: waiting for someone to tell it what readiness means, to define the path that would make engagement safe, to provide the certainty that would make the risk acceptable. That certainty is not available. No readiness assessment can provide it, because the certainty that people are waiting for can only emerge from doing the work. The dependency state is self-perpetuating: the group waits for the answer that only the group’s own engagement can generate.
This is a structural feature of groups under pressure. The organization is doing exactly what any group does when the adaptive challenge exceeds the current capacity to metabolize it: it finds a way to be productively busy with something other than the thing.
What it needs is a structure capable of holding the anxiety while genuine engagement begins. The readiness framework is in the wrong genre. It is a different kind of problem and it points toward a different kind of solution.
The Work IS the Readiness
Why Preparation Cannot Precede Engagement
Readiness for a major change emerges only inside engagement with that change. The conditions of genuine readiness, renegotiated authority, practiced containment, revised role meaning, develop through sustained contact with the actual work.
The conventional frame says otherwise. Lewin’s unfreezing-changing-refreezing model, and the Kotter eight-step sequence that followed it, both treat readiness as a managerial act completed before the change begins. The unfreezing happens. The change happens. The refreezing happens. In sequence. The model has a tidy logic and almost no support in the empirical record of transitions that actually took.
William Bridges, writing from forty years of consulting practice on major change efforts, identified the structural error. Change is an event. Transition is the internal psychological reorientation that has to happen for the change to take. The two are different processes operating on different timelines.
This time in the neutral zone is not wasted, for that is where the creativity and energy of transition are found and the real transformation takes place... if the transition is not dealt with, the change may collapse.
Bridges & Mitchell, 2000
The neutral zone is inhabited, not crossed. People sit inside the confusion and ambivalence of the role that the change is calling them into, and the sitting is the transformation. There is no shortcut around it. The readiness program that promises to deliver the team to the other side of the neutral zone before the program is implemented is selling something the world cannot supply.
Edgar Schein, writing the same decade, located the same problem at the level of individual learning. Anxiety is the substrate of the learning, the condition that makes the new information stick at the level of behavior. A program that designs the anxiety out of the experience removes the condition that makes the learning real. Schein’s call, in his 1992 essay on faster organizational learning, was for leaders to talk explicitly about the role of anxiety in learning, which he described as the kind of subject leaders and managers rarely speak about openly. The readiness program, with its dashboards and milestones, is structurally configured to do the opposite. It is configured to keep the anxiety unspoken.
Michael Inzlicht and colleagues, surveying the cognitive science literature in 2018, named the deeper structural fact. The cost of effort is what gives the outcome its value.
Working hard can also make those same things more valuable. Effort can even be experienced as valuable or rewarding in its own right.
Inzlicht, Shenhav, & Olivola, 2018
The learning that constitutes readiness is, by its structure, anxiety-producing and effortful. Both are constituents of the value. A readiness program that does the hard cognitive work for employees, that pre-digests it into curricula and frameworks and dashboards, produces information without transformation. It also produces a certain kind of fatigue: the team has worked hard on something, and the something has not changed them.
Isabel Menzies Lyth observed the organizational consequence more than sixty years ago. Her London teaching hospital had built a sophisticated set of protections to shield student nurses from stress. The protections worked, in the immediate term, by reducing the difficulty of the role. They also prevented the nurses from developing the capacity to do the role.
Although the nursing service has considerable success in nursing patients, the individual nurse has little direct experience of success.
Menzies Lyth, 1960
The readiness program that takes the difficulty out of engagement with AI is doing what Menzies Lyth’s hospital did. It is overprotecting employees out of the experience that would build the capacity it is supposed to produce. After enough overprotection, the only experience employees have of the change is the program, which is to say, the symbol of the change. The change itself stays at a distance.
Susan Long’s Transforming Experience Framework offers the mechanism at the level of the role. People develop capacity by taking up role in relation to the work, not by being assessed for it.
The Transforming Experience Framework explores how people can take authentic action through taking up role.
Long, 2013
Authentic action in role is what transforms experience. The phrase carries a precise meaning. Role is what stands between the person and the system: the position the person takes up in relation to the task, the authority they carry, the boundaries they hold, the responsibilities they accept. Taking up role is the act of stepping into that position, with its attendant uncertainty, and acting from inside it. The readiness assessment produces information about role-readiness. Role-taking produces the readiness itself. These are different kinds of activity and they do not substitute for each other.
If readiness emerges through engagement, the question shifts. The organization does not need a better readiness framework. It needs a structure capable of holding the engagement while it unfolds. That is a different problem and it has a different shape.
What Organizations Actually Need First
Containment Before Coverage
Readiness Theatre gets one thing right. Major change cannot be asked of people without something holding the space. People need a container before genuine engagement with destabilizing work is possible. The error sits in what gets counted as a container. The readiness matrix functions as a pseudo-container: it has the appearance of holding without producing any reduction in the live anxiety the change is generating. It records the impingements. It does not absorb them.
The concept of holding comes from Donald Winnicott’s developmental psychology. Winnicott introduced the term in 1960 to describe the conditions an infant requires to develop into a person capable of meeting reality without being overwhelmed by it.
The term “holding” is used here to denote not only the actual physical holding of the infant, but also the total environmental provision prior to the concept of living with.
Winnicott, 1960
The concept is operational. Holding is the total environmental provision, the structure of attention, presence, and predictability that surrounds the developing person, organized so that what threatens them is held at a level they can metabolize. Winnicott named the function precisely:
The holding environment therefore has as its main function the reduction to a minimum of impingements to which the infant must react with resultant annihilation of personal being.
Winnicott, 1960
The analog at the organizational level is exact, once translated. The major change is the impingement. The organization’s role is the holding environment. A genuine holding structure reduces the live force of the impingement so that members can stay in continuity of being while they engage with it. A pseudo-container records the impingement on a dashboard and lets it through unchanged. The first is containment. The second is documentation.
Ronald Heifetz, Alexander Grashow, and Marty Linsky borrowed Winnicott’s concept and translated it into language a senior leader can use:
Holding environment: the cohesive properties of a relationship or social system that serve to keep people engaged with one another in spite of the divisive forces generated by adaptive work... Holding environments give a group identity and contain the conflict, chaos, and confusion often produced when struggling with complex problematic realities.
Heifetz, Grashow, & Linsky, 2009
The leader’s job inside adaptive work is to construct and hold this environment. The conflict, chaos, and confusion are not signs that the change is going wrong. They are the work itself, surfacing for engagement. A holding environment makes the surfacing survivable. It gives the group enough identity to stay together while the identity-threatening work unfolds.
Anton Obholzer, working from decades of practice at the Tavistock Clinic, names the two sides of the work that genuine containment requires.
Creating a containing structure conducive of creativity and thought, coupled with a relentless ferreting out of defensive, bureaucratic time-wasting activities in the service of resistance to change.
Obholzer, 2001
Both sides are required. Building the container is half the work. The other half is dismantling the rituals that substitute for engagement. A leader who creates a holding environment while leaving the readiness machinery intact has produced two competing containers. The defensive one wins, because the defensive one is less threatening. People drift back to the dashboard. The maturity matrix gets one more revision. The holding environment becomes the place no one quite goes.
Obholzer is also direct about the developmental cost. Containment is a leadership practice, not a programmatic feature, and it has a prerequisite at the level of the leader.
You cannot “contain”, in Bion’s sense, the inevitable disturbances associated with an authority-cum-leadership role, unless you yourself have not only been “contained” in your own development.
Obholzer, 1996
The leader who has not been held through an identity-threatening transition cannot hold others through one. They can perform holding. They can repeat the language of containment in their town halls. They can commission the readiness program that records the anxiety while leaving it unprocessed. The performance is recognizable, and recognizable from the inside. The leader knows that what they are running is not what they are saying it is. They run it anyway, because the alternative is to feel, in their own body, the very anxiety they are being asked to hold for the system.
Menzies Lyth, captured the operational inversion that pseudo-containment produces:
Senior staff tend to use the word “responsibility” differently from ordinary usage. For them, a “responsible” nurse is one who carried out prescriptions to the letter.
Menzies Lyth, 1960
The readiness matrix produces exactly this inversion. Employees who comply with the dashboard items are read as “ready.” Employees exercising role-judgment in genuine engagement with the change, who push back, who decline to follow the script because the script is missing what the moment requires, are invisible to the metric. The system reads compliance as readiness and discretion as risk.
The cost of this inversion shows up in the data. Niederhoffer and colleagues, in their 2026 study of what they called “workslop,” the AI output that performs work without producing it, found that trust in team reduced workslop by sixty-one percent. The protective factor was not better training or better tooling. It was relational containment. People who felt held by their colleagues did less performative AI work and more genuine engagement. The empirical bridge runs both ways: clinical language describing what protects engagement, organizational data describing what produces it.
Building containment requires someone to hold authority clearly. Which is where most transformations actually break down.
Where Part 1 leaves us
Stand back from the four sections you have just read. Together they make a single argument. Readiness Theatre is a social defence, real work that also does a second job, holding the organization at a safe distance from the anxiety that beginning would release. When an organization says it is not ready, it is usually telling the truth about three things it has not named: it has not settled who holds authority, it has not built a container for the anxiety the work will generate, and it has not given people the role clarity that lets them engage without feeling their identity is at stake. Readiness does not arrive before engagement. It is produced by engagement. And what an organization needs first is not more coverage. It is containment.
That last word is where Part 1 stops and Part 2 begins. Containment is impossible unless someone holds authority clearly, and clear authority is what most transformations end up abdicating. So Part 2 opens there, with the authority problem at the center of every stalled change, then turns to the identity stakes underneath the adoption metric, the thing your most senior people are actually protecting. It closes with three practical shifts that separate genuine readiness work from theatre, the moves you can carry into the next steering meeting.
If Part 1 gave you sight, Part 2 gives you the handholds. Come back for it in two weeks. The room will still be there, and so will the chance to run it differently.
Before Part 2: questions for your own reflections
Two weeks is enough time to watch for this in your own organization. None of these are rhetorical.
What you are already seeing.
Where in your organization is the foundation always almost ready? Name the specific assessment, matrix, or roadmap that keeps getting one more revision.
Think of the last readiness effort you were part of. What would beginning have actually cost the people in the room, and which of them had the most to lose?
When your team says it is not ready, what is the truer sentence underneath it?
Where have you yourself reached for more preparation when the moment was asking for engagement?
What Part 2 will ask of you.
Who actually holds the authority to say the work has begun? If you cannot name the person, that is the gap Part 2 opens on.
What anxiety would surface if the readiness work simply stopped, and who would have to hold it?
Is there any structure where you work that could contain that anxiety while people engage, or only dashboards that record it?
Ways We Could Work Together
If what you have read here struck a chord, there are a few ways we could take this conversation further.
Talks and Offsites. If you are shaping a leadership retreat or planning a gathering where you want people to think differently about themselves and the systems they inhabit, I can help spark that dialogue.
Executive Coaching. For leaders navigating complexity, change, or the unspoken dynamics in their roles, I offer one-to-one coaching as a thinking partner in the work.
You can reach me directly if one of these feels like the right next step.
References
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Bridges, W., & Mitchell, S. (2000). Leading transition: A new model for change. Leader to Leader, 16, 30-36.
Eatough, E., et al. (2026). Why AI adoption stalls. Industry research report.
Heifetz, R. A., & Laurie, D. L. (1997). The work of leadership. Harvard Business Review, 75(1), 124–134.
Heifetz, R. A., Grashow, A., & Linsky, M. (2009). The practice of adaptive leadership: Tools and tactics for changing your organization and the world. Harvard Business Press.
Inzlicht, M., Shenhav, A., & Olivola, C. Y. (2018). The effort paradox: Effort is both costly and valued. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 22(4), 337-347.
Jaques, E. (1955). Social systems as a defence against persecutory and depressive anxiety. In M. Klein, P. Heimann, & R. E. Money-Kyrle (Eds.), New directions in psycho-analysis (pp. 478–498). Tavistock Publications.
Kets de Vries, M. F. R. (2006). The leader on the couch. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Long, S. (Ed.). (2013). Transforming experience in organisations: A framework for organisational research and consultancy. London: Karnac.
Menzies Lyth, I. E. P. (1960). Nurses under stress: A case-study in the functioning of social systems as a defence against anxiety. Human Relations, 13(2), 95-121.
Niederhoffer, K., Rosen Kellerman, G., Lee, A., Liebscher, A., Rapuano, K., & Hancock, J. T. (2025, September 22). AI-generated "workslop" is destroying productivity. Harvard Business Review.
Obholzer, A. (1996). Psychoanalytic contributions to authority and leadership issues. Leadership & Organization Development Journal, 17(6), 53-56.
Obholzer, A. (2001). The leader, the unconscious, and the management of the organisation. In L. J. Gould, L. F. Stapley, & M. Stein (Eds.), The systems psychodynamics of organizations: Integrating the group relations approach, psychoanalytic, and open systems perspectives. Karnac Books.
Schein, E. H. (1992). How can organizations learn faster? The challenge of entering the green room. Sloan Management Review, 34(2), 85-92.
Vince, R., & Broussine, M. (1996). Paradox, defense and attachment: Accessing and working with the emotions and relations underlying organizational change. Organization Studies, 17(1), 1-21.
Winnicott, D. W. (1960). The theory of the parent-infant relationship. International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 41, 585-595.