Daniel Müller is, at the time of writing, a PhD student in Philosophy (in the bi-national project “How can we think in a language?”) at the University of Osnabrück. He has obtained both his Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Cognitive Science (CogSci) at the University of Osnabrück as well, focussing particularly on neuroscience and philosophy of cognitive science. Staying true to the transdisciplinary spirit of CogSci, he draws not only on philosophy but also on psychology, anthropology, neuroscience and literary studies in his work, which focusses on a relational explanation of creativity as well as explorations into adjacent fields of situated cognition. His interests, however, far outstretch his academic publication record and include the philosophical classics freedom of will, consciousness, the good life, political philosophy, the politics of the mind and the history of mysticism, to name but a few. He is also a writer of prose and poetry and a practising barista.

I came to Crete in the pursuit of knowledge, perhaps even wisdom, if I got lucky. I returned with my hopes surpassed and a mentor and friend gained. My PhD supervisor in Osnabrück was initially against me staying there, since she would have preferred for me to focus on my writing for making progress on my thesis. My perspective differed, though. To me, locking myself into an isolated room for the sake of writing sounded horrifying. I told her that I knew my writing process and I knew what I needed. That I was convinced that Keith could help me fill the gaps in my arguments. We found a way to make it work and I was able to go to the island.

I spent the first week exploring the island with my spouse. We got to see holy caves, Knossos and the Carnival in Heraklion. Then, I met Keith for the first time in a café around the corner, Konstantinos. We sat down in the two armchairs they had there. After passing some memes back and forth, a genuine and deep dialogue began to unfold. We talked about politics, our mutual philosophical hero Dan Dennett and how we could dissipate the illusion of “genius”. Maria also came along, joining the dialogue for some time.

Keith was always eager to make sure that I was able to use the time with him in the most useful way possible for my project. I did and although he was humble to a point where he was unsure if he was even helpful (that is, to an absurd point), it really boosted my theorising. I came with the idea that we could (and indeed should) explain creativity in terms of the dynamics of dialogue. But I neither had a good name for the model I was developing, nor did I know how to convincingly argue that unconscious inner dialogue was a thing.

Keith supplied me with the name “pangelonium” (pan+angelos = all the messengers) for the society of mind I had in mind for an explanation of creativity. And more important, he instructed me about the method of skeletonization, i.e., using a person-level notion like dialogue and simplifying it until it is plausible for sub-personal units too. Using this perspective, I finally had the tools together to become a mental ghostbuster, i.e., to exorcise the “ghost from the machine”.

Keith likewise encouraged me to gather impressions on the island which gave me inspiration for a couple of poems. I asked him if he thought it was admissible to attend a mass at a church near me since I hadn’t ever experienced an Orthodox mass yet. He affirmed and even suggested to go to a monastery and get into dialogue with the monks or nuns there. So, I visited places held to be sacred in different times by different people: the Minoan peak sanctuary of mount Iouchtas, a cave which has been sacred since the palaeolithic, and lastly the sacred myrtle tree in the monastery of Palianis. I sat down underneath the tree. I just sat there.

After a while I wanted to find someone to enter into a dialogue with and realised that I had no idea how to do that. I saw a room that was entered by a father with his daughter, who were obviously not nuns but belonged to the local population. I figured that this would be a space I would be allowed in and entered too. I smiled at everyone around me, not understanding a word, since my Greek was very rudimentary. At some point, a nun started to inquire what I was doing there (also in Greek). I told her that unfortunately I did not understand Greek. It turned out that she did not understand English, so we were in the same situation. Some minutes later, a novice entered and asked me where I was from. I said “Germany”. She said “Ah, dann können wir ja auch Deutsch reden.“ (“Ah, so we might as well speak German.”) As it turned out, she was raised in Germany to Greek parents and had decided to become a nun. I asked her (politely, of course) how she made that decision. She answered that it was a feeling of being called to God’s service. I asked her if she talked to God and vice versa, which interested me in part due to its relevance to my research on dialogue. She told me that she didn’t. Rather, there was a calming presence she could feel.

When I spoke to Keith about this, he recalled an anecdote about a friend of his mother-in-law, who had also been a nun. Keith had pitied her for having what he thought was a rather boring life consisting of the ever-same cycle of prayer, gardening, and more prayer. When he got to meet her and talked to her, it turned out that she had the same view about the world outside of the monastery. Her life was psychologically fulfilling while the life out there consisted of bloodless nine-to-five office jobs in the pursuit of making a profit for a CEO somewhere who was out of reach anyway. The same couldn’t be said, on the other hand, of God. What an inversion of perspective! I think that encountering perspectives which unroll the world in a way quite unlike one’s own is what marks a life lived to the fullest.

The beauty of the stay was that in the, at times meandering, dialogue we had, which had us talk about the politics of the mind, mysticism, metaphor and metaphysics, not last about how humans really are but masked dancers, the questions for my thesis came to be answered almost incidentally. Isn’t this fitting?

Ricky Jeffrey works in education. He holds a doctorate from the School of Education, University of Nottingham, where his thesis investigated practicality in educational assessment. He has taught courses in English language, education, and applied linguistics at Edinburgh, Nottingham, Tsinghua, Zhejiang, and other universities in the UK and China. He has published a range of peer-reviewed research in journals of education, and won awards for his work as a practitioner. In addition to teaching in universities, Ricky has also worked closely with schools, and taught in England’s state school system.

Keith taught me 2000-2003, as director of studies on my BA Philosophy at Robinson College, Cambridge. Now decades later, I remember very clearly meeting him in the interview, our first supervision meeting, specific pieces of feedback on my essays, our final supervision shortly before graduation, among other moments. Indeed, Keith’s teaching was the best part of my undergraduate studies. Since then I’ve worked variously as a teacher, teacher trainer, and university lecturer in departments of education. Throughout, I think I implicitly endeavour to enact many of the values I saw modelled in Keith’s teaching, and something of my “teacher persona” with thousands of my own students has been inspired by those earlier interactions with Keith. Fifteen years after graduation, while I was teaching at a university in north-eastern China, I heard that Keith and Maria were planning to visit Beijing. It was my pleasure to take the train to the capital (only a ten-hour round trip) and spend a day showing them around, including a follow-up discussion about philosophy atop the Great Wall (admittedly less rigorous than the Cambridge supervisions). As I explained to him then, I tend to think great teachers deserve appreciation and respect. Thank you, Keith.

Ricky (right) with Keith on the Great Wall of China in 2017

Samuel de Castro Bellini-Leite has a PhD in Philosophy (Logic, Science, Mind, and Language) from the Federal University of Minas Gerais (UFMG), a Master’s degree in Philosophy (Philosophy of Mind, Cognitive Science, and Semiotics) from São Paulo State University (UNESP). and a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology from Centro de Ensino Superior de Juiz de Fora (CES/JF). His work focuses on several areas in cognitive science, including cognitive psychology, philosophy of psychology, educational psychology, creativity and cognition, philosophy of artificial intelligence, philosophy of mind, and theoretical cognitive science. He currently teaches at Minas Gerais State University (UEMG).

Before achieving philosophical acclaim for his work on Illusionism, Keith was already quite influential in the field of dual process theories of cognition. His book Mind and Supermind developed one of the first philosophical takes on the duality of mind and the structure of belief, which still has nuance and should be explored and used in current descriptions of the mind. He also organized a collection of chapters from the most influential dual process theorists in the field, called In Two Minds: Dual Processes and Beyond.

Having contact with this collection was most likely the start of my career in writing about dual process theory. Being a philosophy of mind student somewhat isolated in Brazil, I was interested in attaching myself to the international community in some way. Therefore, I decided to be bold and reach out to Keith as he was the most prominent philosopher engaged in dual process theory. To my surprise, he agreed to be my online PhD supervisor here in the Federal University of Minas Gerais, along with André Abath. I am deeply grateful for this, and it was one of the first steps in consolidating my career.

Working with Keith included online meetings to decide the direction of my PhD thesis. These sessions allowed me to develop my ideas freely while also being guided responsibility as I navigated the field. Keith also recommended my work to Riccardo Viale, which opened more doors in terms of connection with the international community. Later, Keith and I co-write a chapter for a handbook Riccardo edited. Our chapter was titled ‘Bounded rationality and dual systems‘.

Writing with Keith was a challenging endeavor, since his British literacy was demanding in ways I was not acquainted with. (Though at one point, he joked that I was nitpicking more than him!) If I were sensible, I would have incorporated more of his writing style into my work. In fact, I hope he will feel free to edit this testimonial!

Currently, I hold a position teaching psychology at the Minas Gerais State University in Brazil, and most of my relevant research was done in this period working with Keith and André. My work on dual process theory has now had some influence on other fields such as AI, online behavior, decision-making in health sciences, and others. I think of it as an extension of what Keith started in the book In Two Minds.

Katarína Marcinčinová (née Sklutová) is an Ethics Specialist at the Kempelenov Institute of Intelligent Technologies (KInIT), where she is a member of the Ethics and Human Values in Technology research group. She holds a PhD in systematic philosophy from Comenius University in Bratislava (Faculty of Arts, Department of Philosophy and History of Philosophy), with research interests spanning the philosophy of consciousness and the philosophy and ethics of artificial intelligence. Her published work includes studies on illusionism and phenomenal consciousness, as well as the ethical implications of AI — including LLM misuse and social media algorithm auditing. Her full publication record is available on ResearchGate.

I first contacted Keith when I was doing my PhD in systematic philosophy at the Comenius University in Bratislava, Slovakia. I had written an email to ask whether he would be interested in giving an interview on the relationship between illusionism and naturalistic views on consciousness.

The first conversations with Keith convinced me to place illusionism at the centre of my doctoral thesis and from these exchanges, we went on to publish an interview together.

The interview on illusionism inspired me to have a short research stay in Heraklion, Crete in 2023. My first idea was to present Keith with some thoughts about my doctoral thesis, in which I wanted to argue that illusionism is not an eliminative position, but a naturalist one, which explains consciousness as a natural phenomenon rather than an unsolvable mystery.

Keith suggested we meet at the café next to Heraklion Archeological Museum. I was not yet confident enough to present my views to someone so established in the field, but as it turned out, my worries were unfounded. I was pleasantly struck by how genuinely Keith engaged with my philosophical views. It felt less like a student meeting a teacher and more like a philosophical dialogue between two people.

After our meeting, Keith kindly invited me and my now-husband that was travelling with me to dinner with Maria. Over the course of the evening, Keith and Maria gave me a piece of advice I have carried with me ever since – that I can practice philosophy anywhere if I have a genuine passion and love for it.

After dinner, Keith suggested we arrange an online meeting with Daniel Dennett — a philosopher we both greatly admired, and one whose ideas long served as an inspiration for my philosophical journey. I was quite stunned by that for a moment, yet before long we found ourselves in Keith’s study singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Daniel Dennett! During the same conversation, three of us also discussed the risks posed by current AI systems (which later inspired me to broaden my professional focus on AI ethics).

I successfully completed my PhD in 2024, with a doctoral thesis on illusionism (awarded the Comenius University Rector’s Award 2024) which was inspired in no small part by conversations with Keith (as also noted in the dissertation itself). I currently work as an AI ethics researcher and specialist at the Kempelen Institute of Intelligent Technologies, with a focus on both the philosophy of mind and the philosophy of artificial intelligence.

I often found myself thinking about my research stay in Heraklion, because the discussions with Keith did far more than only help me with ‘what-it-is-like’ to be a professional researcher (and proud Thesean!). They also showed me that the wisest people are the kindest — those who place value on humility and understanding in sharing their knowledge, rather than on rank or standing.

Maxim Gorbachev is a Research Fellow at the International Laboratory for Logic, Linguistics and Formal Philosophy at HSE University (Higher School of Economics) in Moscow. He holds a Master’s in Philosophy from Lomonosov Moscow State University and completed his Candidate of Sciences dissertation in 2025 on the illusionist theory of consciousness. His research focuses on the philosophy of consciousness, particularly the debate between realists and illusionists over phenomenal consciousness and qualia. His publications include critical analyses of illusionism in relation to identity theory and the epistemological foundations of the realism/illusionism debate. Further details are available on his HSE profile and ResearchGate.

The first time I met Keith was in 2021, when I was pursuing a master’s degree at Lomonosov Moscow State University. He gave a lecture on illusionism, which became the starting point of my interest in the philosophy of mind and consciousness. Like many others, I initially found illusionism rather unconvincing at first glance. However, it captured my attention, and I spent a lot of time thinking about it. Eventually, this led me to decide to write my future PhD thesis on illusionism (it is still hard to believe that before that I was planning to write about love).

I became a PhD student at HSE University and received a grant for my studies. Among other benefits, this gave me the opportunity to do a research internship. So I emailed Keith. We had a Zoom call, and after several months of preparation I found myself in Heraklion at the end of September. During my stay, I was expected to write a paper, so I presented Keith with a couple of topics related to illusionism, and we decided to work on one of them. At the same time, I asked him many questions that I had prepared in advance, trying to clarify as much as possible about illusionist theory.

My internship lasted a little over two months, and most of that time I spent reading and writing in the room I had rented (which is a story in itself: almost no daylight, no chairs with backs, but plenty of insects that I am afraid of). Keith always offered me help with any troubles I could have, what I am very grateful for. When I was not reading or writing, I went for walks—mostly in the evenings, since it was too hot during most of the day. But the most important part of my time there was my conversations with Keith. We met two or three times a week in his office, talking about illusionism, philosophy in general, and also non-philosophical topics.

Working with Keith was my first experience of genuinely collaborative thinking on a paper: I prepare a draft, we discuss it, and then I revise it. This may not sound particularly special, but I had never experienced discussions that were so productive, friendly, and deep — either before or after. Keith gave me a lot of advice on how to learn to write. In the end, we wrote a paper together and published it as co-authors in Synthese.

Thanks to Keith, this was a huge achievement for me. But during those months in Heraklion, I gained not only a publication. I found a teacher—and, more importantly, a friend. We keep in touch with each other. I’m always glad to hear from him and Maria, and I often remember those days in Heraklion with warmth and joy.

François Kammerer is a philosopher of mind and cognitive science. Since 2024, he is a researcher (“Chargé de recherches”) at the French CNRS, attached to the Archives Henri Poincaré (Strasbourg). 

January 2019. I was a postdoc in Louvain-la-Neuve, Belgium, with a respectable travel budget, and I had decided to spend one month in Crete to work with Keith Frankish. Officially, I was visiting the philosophy department in Rethymno, but I had found a small flat in Heraklion, where Keith lives, about an hour away from Rethymno. I knew and admired Keith for his work on consciousness and illusionism, and we had exchanged on the topic (I wrote a short piece for his illusionism symposium in 2016), but I wanted to spend the month discussing new ideas, distinct from illusionism, on introspection. My idea was to present him with a draft – that I hoped would become, as it did, a co-authored paper – on possible forms of introspection. The goal of the article was to rigorously theorize about introspection in the most general sense – not just introspection as it exists in us, humans, but introspection as it could be, in modified humans, animals, AIs, or aliens. It was a speculative, weird project that raised a lot of eyebrows, but I found it intellectually very stimulating.

Not much was going on in Heraklion in January. Life was slow. The tourists were all gone, the beach empty, the sea often stormy. You could admire, in the distance, the mountains covered in snow. I was devoting almost all my time to work, with a bit of sightseeing on weekends. I would meet with Keith about twice a week for lengthy morning discussions in his living room. We first discussed the draft I sent him, then continued with further discussions based on his comments, suggestions, and objections. When I was not with Keith, I was mostly working in hipster cafés in the city center or at the city library.

Working with Keith felt like the real deal. We were genuinely trying to figure deep things out at the conceptual level, exploring uncharted territory in a spirit of kind but rigorous collaboration. I learnt a whole lot with him. I was the impatient, impulsive, imaginative, but chaotic youngish postdoc, bubbling with disorderly and hasty ideas. Keith was the wise, cautious, perfectionist, deeply informed, awfully smart experienced philosopher. He reined me in when needed, encouraged me at other times, all the while remaining the exquisitely polite and terribly generous person he is. Think d’Artagnan and Athos – except that Keith is not an old misogynistic bachelor, but a happily married feminist; he and his wonderful wife Maria Kasmirli were kind enough to take me out for a couple of evenings out in Heraklion. When we were not talking about introspection and consciousness, we discussed politics and old movies – I got to watch Powell & Pressburger’s movies because of Keith, although I still don’t think they beat Renoir’s!

The article benefited tremendously from Keith’s work and input. We kept working on it together in the following years, and the result ended up being considerably stronger, more systematic, and more elegantly written than my first clumsy draft scribbled in a very Gallic English. We published it four years later, as the target article of a 15-papers interdisciplinary symposium in the Journal Consciousness Studies, which would end up republished as a book in 2025, The Landscape of Introspection. The article has since then had a life of its own, being cited in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, and discussed, notably in the context of debates on LLM introspection, by researchers at Deep Mind or Anthropic.

I often think very fondly of my time in Heraklion and, when I interact with younger researchers and find myself in the role of the more experienced collaborator, I always try to bring with me something of Keith’s mentoring spirit – the way he combined generosity and kindness with a relentless expectation of excellence.