‘THERE is no such thing as a baby,’ wrote renowned paediatrician Donald Winnicott in 1942. ‘There is a baby and someone.’
His meaning was simple and profound: an infant does not and cannot exist in isolation. It is attached. In the 1960s John Bowlby’s great insight into child psychology known as ‘attachment theory’ explained why. Over the last few decades neuroscientific research has confirmed the observations his theory (of attachment, maternal deprivation and separation anxiety) were based on. A baby comes into being initially through its attachment to its mother – ideally through attuned care, emotional presence and the steady regulation of distress by either parent. This infant dependency is not a flaw to be overcome, it is the foundation of its development.
Yet it is precisely this truth that contemporary feminist ideology and thinking denies. As science has clarified and confirmed the importance of connection, social practices have moved in the opposite direction. Practices that formally cut or break this connection, from abortion to institutionalised early day-care through to family separation, have increased or been normalised in recent years. Decisions that are framed in terms of autonomy share a common feature: the deliberate severing of human dependency at its most vulnerable points.
We are living through a cultural moment that denies such dependency, sees attachment as danger, and relational need as oppression. In the name of ‘liberation’ and ‘progressiveness’, the family is dismantled, fathers marginalised, and children quietly reshaped to fit adult belief systems. What is presented as progress increasingly resembles something else: a refusal to accept the basic conditions under which human beings develop at all. The casualties from this are not abstract. They are children.
Decades of developmental neuroscience show that the human brain is shaped through early emotional relationships. The neuroscientist Allan Schore’s work demonstrates that the systems responsible for emotional regulation, empathy, stress tolerance and social understanding develop in direct response to the quality of caregiving. Brain development is not merely biological; it is relational.
When caregiving is emotionally attuned, a coherent sense of ‘self’ forms. The child learns that feelings can be experienced without catastrophe, that relationships survive disagreement and that dependence does not mean annihilation. When caregiving is mis-attuned, when parenting is driven by unresolved anger, trauma, grievance or rigid belief, particularly in cases involving parental alienation, something else happens. Children learn which emotions are safe and which are dangerous. They learn which parent must be protected and when, which feelings must be hidden and which version of reality is safest to adopt. Over time, the child’s inner life thins. They stop discovering who they are and start performing who they need to be. Across nearly 20 years of family assessment, I have repeatedly seen this occurring even when there is no overt cruelty. Often it is quiet: originating in a parent who can’t tolerate ambivalence or who requires their child to mirror their emotional reality.
Unresolved anger and distress from childhood relational harm is rarely expressed directly; rather it’s projected outward on to those whom cultural narratives have already positioned as dangerous or blameworthy – men or fathers, for example. In present ideological climates, they frequently serve this function. The child becomes the carrier of this projected anger. What looks like confidence or moral clarity is, in reality, fear held rigidly in place.
Such children can speak with striking certainty about adult matters they cannot possibly understand. They repeat slogans rather than thoughts, show contempt where curiosity should be, and appear strong while lacking emotional depth. What looks like independence is a self that has had to harden too early; a fundamental and unconscious lack of trust in all relationships.
Underlying this is a failure of early emotional attunement. When children are not accurately seen, soothed, or mirrored by primary caregivers, the brain systems responsible for emotional regulation and identity integration do not fully mature (Schore, 2015; Fonagy et al, 2002).
The result is chronic, often unrecognised anger and emotional instability. During adolescence, these vulnerabilities may manifest as identity confusion, distorted memory, intolerance of dissent, and defensive self-enhancement (Erikson, 1968; Kernberg, 1975). The thousands of reality-based professionals working on family law cases across the world witness this time and again in depressingly increasing numbers.
Dependency is not weakness; it is the engine of development. Children become independent through relationship and connection, not in defiance of them. Yet much contemporary ideology rests on the opposite premise: that needing others is oppression, that attachment is danger, and that autonomy demands severance. Here, radical feminism reveals its deepest psychological error. By reframing attachment as a flawed concept and dependency as harm, it renders parental care, especially paternal care, suspect. Fathers become optional, even inherently dangerous. It creates a ‘case’ for chopping off half of a child’s relational world. By prioritising adult identity claims over children’s developmental needs, it inverts the moral order and takes over culture.
Unsurprisingly, societies that celebrate this model now face collapsing birth rates, rising loneliness and escalating psychological distress. Extinction-level fertility is not only an economic warning; it’s a psychological one. It signals a culture that has lost faith in continuity and is heading for oblivion.
It’s impossible to ignore that this same distorted psychological ‘logic’ underpins both radical feminism and contemporary transgender ideology, despite their surface-level conflicts. At their core, both reject biological givens, evolutionary continuity, and developmental constraint in favour of self-definition unconstrained by body, relationship or reproduction. When realities are treated as oppressive rather than formative, identity becomes unmoored. This creates fertile ground for narcissistic adaptation.
For children and adolescents already struggling with mis-attuned parenting or fragile identity formation, ideologies that promise absolute self-definition offer powerful relief. The projection of unresolved childhood attachment anger becomes a demand for justice. Self-righteous certainty replaces curiosity. Any challenge is reframed as harm and aggressively denied using howling moral outrage and ‘cancellation’ of those who disagree.
From a developmental perspective, this is profoundly anti-evolutionary and truly dystopian. A society that denies sex, embodiment, reproduction and dependency is not merely redefining identity, it is splitting itself from continuity. The result is fragility: identities that cannot tolerate disagreement and relationships that cannot survive difference. And there is a chilling historical parallel.
What we see now is not biological eugenics, but a cultural analogue: deciding which family bonds are expendable, which parents are suspect, and which children must adapt to ideologically curated environments.
Fatherhood becomes a developmental risk by presumption. Children are expected to reorganise themselves accordingly. They call it liberation; ‘back in the real world’ we know it as catastrophic damage to families and children on an industrial scale.
History shows that systems convinced of their moral superiority struggle to see the harm they produce. Once children become symbols rather than developing minds, the line between safeguarding and social engineering disappears. The appalling outcomes are being and will be written into the psychology of the next generation. When a culture teaches its children that they need no one, it should not be surprised when they grow up unable to love, trust, or carry the future they were meant to inherit.
The family is not a patriarchal relic. It is the primary psychological infrastructure of all societies. Undermine it, and everything downstream weakens. Winnicott was right: there is no such thing as a baby alone, a child, or in fact anyone. And there is no such thing as a society that survives the denial of dependency.
