2017年1月27日 星期五

Fellow Prisoners by John Berger

GRID: Times of Crisis - John Berger and Noam Chomsky (4/22/14)

約從12紛起,John Berger 讀

Fellow Prisoners

The best way to understand the world is not as a metaphorical prison but a literal one.

 Fellow Prisoners

Fellow Prisoners by John Berger

John Berger reads his essay, Fellow Prisoners. transcript: https://www.guernicamag.com/features/john_berger_7_15_11/

The wonderful American poet Adrienne Rich pointed out in a recent lecture about poetry that “this year, a report from the Bureau of Justice Statistics finds that one out of every 136 residents of the United States is behind bars—many in jails, unconvicted.”
In the same lecture she quoted the Greek poet Yannis Ritsos:
In the field the last swallow had lingered late,
balancing in the air like a black ribbon on the sleeve
of autumn.
Nothing else remained. Only the burned houses
smouldering still.
I picked up the phone and knew immediately it was an unexpected call from you, speaking from your flat in the Via Paolo Sarpi. (Two days after the election results and Berlusconi’s comeback.) The speed with which we identify a familiar voice coming out of the blue is comforting, but also somewhat mysterious. Because the measures, the units we use in calculating the clear distinction that exists between one voice and another, are unformulated and nameless. They don’t have a code. These days more and more is encoded.
So I wonder whether there aren’t other measures, equally uncoded yet precise, by which we calculate other givens. For example, the amount of circumstantial freedom existing in a certain situation, its extent and its strict limits. Prisoners become experts at this. They develop a particular sensitivity toward liberty, not as a principle, but as a granular substance. They spot fragments of liberty almost immediately whenever they occur.
On an ordinary day, when nothing is happening and the crises announced hourly are the old familiar ones—and the politicians are declaring yet again that without them there would be catastrophe—people as they pass one another exchange glances, and some of their glances check whether the others are envisaging the same thing when they say to themselves, So this is life!
Often they are envisaging the same thing and in this primary sharing there is a kind of solidarity before anything further has been said or discussed.
I’m searching for words to describe the period of history we’re living through. To say it’s unprecedented means little because all periods were unprecedented since history was first discovered.
I’m not searching for a complex definition—there are a number of thinkers, such as Zygmunt Bauman, who have taken on this essential task. I’m looking for nothing more than a figurative image to serve as a landmark. Landmarks don’t fully explain themselves, but they offer a reference point that can be shared. In this they are like the tacit assumptions contained in popular proverbs. Without landmarks there is the great human risk of turning in circles.
The landmark I’ve found is that of prison. Nothing less. Across the planet we are living in a prison.
The word we, when printed or pronounced on screens, has become suspect, for it’s continually used by those with power in the demagogic claim that they are also speaking for those who are denied power. Let’s talk of ourselves as they. They are living in a prison.
What kind of prison? How is it constructed? Where is it situated? Or am I only using the word as a figure of speech?
No, it’s not a metaphor, the imprisonment is real, but to describe it one has to think historically.
Michel Foucault has graphically shown how the penitentiary was a late-eighteenth-, early-nineteenth-century invention closely linked to industrial production, its factories and its utilitarian philosophy. Earlier, there were jails that were extensions of the cage and the dungeon. What distinguishes the penitentiary is the number of prisoners it can pack in—and the fact that all of them are under continuous surveillance thanks to the model of the Pantopticon, as conceived by Jeremy Bentham, who introduced the principle of accountancy into ethics.
Accountancy demands that every transaction be noted. Hence the penitentiary’s circular walls with the cells arranged around the screw’s watchtower at the center. Bentham, who was John Stuart Mill’s tutor at the beginning of the nineteenth century, was the principal utilitarian apologist for industrial capitalism.
Today, in the era of globalization, the world is dominated by financial, not industrial, capital, and the dogmas defining criminality and the logics of imprisonment have changed radically. Penitentiaries still exist and more and more are being built. But prison walls now serve a different purpose. What constitutes an incarceration area has been transformed.
Twenty years ago, Nella Bielski and I wrote A Question of Geography, a play about the Gulag. In act two, a zek (a political prisoner) talks to a boy who has just arrived about choice, about the limits of what can be chosen in a labor camp: when you drag yourself back after a day’s work in the taiga, when you are marched back, half dead with fatigue and hunger, you are given your ration of soup and bread. About the soup you have no choice—it has to be eaten whilst it’s hot, or whilst it’s at least warm. About the four hundred grams of bread you have choice. For instance, you can cut it into three little bits: one to eat now with the soup, one to suck in the mouth before going to sleep in your bunk, and the third to keep until next morning at ten, when you’re working in the taiga and the emptiness in your stomach feels like a stone.
You empty a wheelbarrow full of rock. About pushing the barrow to the dump you have no choice. Now it’s empty you have a choice. You can walk your barrow back just like you came, or—if you’re clever, and survival makes you clever—you push it back like this, almost upright. If you choose the second way you give your shoulders a rest. If you are a zek and you become a team leader, you have the choice of playing at being a screw, or of never forgetting that you are a zek.
The Gulag no longer exists. Millions work, however, under conditions that are not very different. What has changed is the forensic logic applied to workers and criminals.
During the Gulag, political prisoners, categorized as criminals, were reduced to slave laborers. Today millions of brutally exploited workers are being reduced to the status of criminals.
The Gulag equation “criminal = slave laborer” has been rewritten by neoliberalism to become “worker = hidden criminal.” The whole drama of global migration is expressed in this new formula; those who work are latent criminals. When accused, they are found guilty of trying at all costs to survive.
Over six million Mexican women and men work in the US without papers and are consequently illegal. A concrete wall of over one thousand kilometers and a “virtual” wall of eighteen hundred watchtowers were planned along the frontier between the US and Mexico, although the projects have recently been scrapped. Ways around them—though all of them dangerous—will of course be found.
Between industrial capitalism, dependent on manufacture and factories, and financial capitalism, dependent on free-market speculation and front office traders, the incarceration area has changed. Speculative financial transactions add up to, each day, $1,300 billion, fifty times more than the sum of the commercial exchanges. The prison is now as large as the planet and its allotted zones can vary and can be termed worksite, refugee camp, shopping mall, periphery, ghetto, office block, favela, suburb. What is essential is that those incarcerated in these zones are fellow prisoners.
It’s the first week in May and on the hillsides and mountains, along the avenues and around the gates in the northern hemisphere, the leaves of most of the trees are coming out. Not only are all their different varieties of green still distinct, people also have the impression that each single leaf is distinct, and so they are confronting billions—no, not billions (the word has been corrupted by dollars), they are confronting an infinite multitude of new leaves.
For prisoners, small visible signs of nature’s continuity have always been, and still are, a covert encouragement.

Today the purpose of most prison walls (concrete, electronic, patrolled, or interrogatory) is not to keep prisoners in and correct them, but to keep prisoners out and exclude them.
Most of the excluded are anonymous—hence the obsession of all security forces with identity. They are also numberless, for two reasons. First because their numbers fluctuate; every famine, natural disaster and military intervention (now called policing) either diminishes or increases their multitude. And second, because to assess their number is to confront the fact that they constitute most of those living on the surface of the earth—and to acknowledge this is to plummet into absolute absurdity.
Have you noticed small commodities are increasingly difficult to remove from their packaging? Something similar has happened with the lives of the gainfully employed. Those who have legal employment and are not poor are living in a very reduced space that allows them fewer and fewer choices—except the continual binary choice between obedience and disobedience. Their working hours, their place of residence, their past skills and experience, their health, the future of their children, everything outside their function as employees has to take a small second place beside the unforeseeable and vast demands of liquid profit. Furthermore, the rigidity of this house rule is called flexibility. In prison, words get turned upside down.
The alarming pressure of high-grade working conditions has obliged the courts in Japan to recognize and define a new coroners’ category of “death by overwork.”
No other system, the gainfully employed are told, is feasible. There is no alternative. Take the elevator. The elevator is a small cell.
Somewhere in the prison I’m watching a five-year-old girl having a swimming lesson in a municipal indoor swimming pool. She’s wearing a dark blue costume. She can swim but doesn’t yet have the confidence to swim alone without any support. The instructor takes her to the deep end of the pool. The girl is going to jump into the water whilst grasping a long rod held out toward her by her teacher. It’s a way of getting over her fear of water. They did the same thing yesterday.
Today she wants the girl to jump without clutching the rod. One, two, three! The girl jumps, but at the last moment seizes the rod. Not a word is spoken. A faint smile passes between the woman and the girl, the girl cheeky, the woman patient.
The girl clambers up the ladder out of the pool and returns to the edge. Again! she hisses. She jumps, hands to her sides, holding nothing. When she comes up to the surface the tip of the rod is there in front of her very nose. The girl swims two strokes to the ladder without touching the rod.
Am I proposing that the girl in the dark blue costume and the swimming instructor in her sandals are prisoners? Certainly at the moment when the girl jumped without the rod, neither of them was in prison. If I think, however, of the years to come or look back at the recent past, I fear that, notwithstanding what I describe, both of them risk becoming or re-becoming a prisoner.
Look at the power structure of the surrounding world, and how its authority functions. Every tyranny finds and improvises its own set of controls. Which is why they are often, at first, not recognized as the vicious controls they are.
The market forces dominating the world assert that they are inevitably stronger than any nation-state. The assertion is corroborated every minute. From an unsolicited telephone call trying to persuade the subscriber to take out private health insurance or a pension, to the latest ultimatum of the World Trade Organization.
As a result, most governments no longer govern. A government no longer steers toward its chosen destination. The word “horizon,” with its promise of a hoped-for future, has vanished from political discourse on both right and left. All that remains for debate is how to measure what is there. Opinion polls replace direction and replace desire.
Most governments herd instead of steer. (In US prison slang, “herders” is one of the many words for jailers.)
In the nineteenth century, long-term imprisonment was approvingly defined as a punishment of “civic death.” Two centuries later, governments are imposing—by law, force, economic threats and their buzz—mass regimes of civic death.
Wasn’t living under any tyranny in the past a form of imprisonment? Not in the sense I’m describing. What is being lived today is new because of its relationship with space.
It’s here that the thinking of Zygmunt Bauman is illuminating. He points out that the corporate market forces now running the world are ex-territorial, that’s to say “free from territorial constraints—the constraints of locality.” They are perpetually remote, anonymous, and thus never have to take account of the territorial, physical consequences of their actions. He quotes Hans Tietmeyer, former president of the German Federal Bank: “Today’s stake is to create conditions favorable to the confidence of investors.” The single supreme priority.
Following this, the control of the world’s populations, consisting of producers, consumers, and the marginalized poor, is the task allotted to the obedient national governments.
The planet is a prison and the obedient governments, whether of left or right, are the herders.
The prison system operates thanks to cyberspace. Cyberspace offers the market a speed of exchange which is almost instantaneous and used across the world day and night for trading. From this speed, the market tyranny gains its ex-territorial license. Such velocity, however, has a pathological effect on its practitioners: it anesthetizes them. No matter what has befallen, “business as usual.”
There is no place for pain in that velocity; announcements of pain perhaps, but not the suffering of it. Consequently, the human condition is banished, excluded from those operating the system. They are alone because utterly heartless.
Earlier, tyrants were pitiless and inaccessible, but they were neighbors who were subject to pain. This is no longer the case, and therein lies the system’s probable weakness.

The tall doors swing background
We’re inside the prison yard
in a new season.
They (we) are fellow prisoners. That recognition, in whatever tone of voice it may be declared, contains a refusal. Nowhere more than in prison is the future calculated and awaited as something utterly opposed to the present. The incarcerated never accept the present as final.
Meanwhile, how to live this present? What conclusions to draw? What decisions to take? How to act? I have a few guidelines to suggest, now that the landmark has been established.
On this side of the walls experience is listened to, no experience is considered obsolete. Here survival is respected, and it’s a commonplace that survival frequently depends upon solidarity between fellow prisoners. The authorities know this—hence their use of solitary confinement, either through physical isolation from history, from heritage, from the earth and, above all, from a common future.
Ignore the jailers’ talk. There are of course bad jailers and less bad. In certain conditions it’s useful to note the difference. But what they say—including the less evil ones—is bullshit. Their hymns, their shibboleths, their incanted words security, democracy, identity, civilization, flexibility, productivity, human rights, integration, terrorism, freedom are repeated and repeated in order to confuse, divide, distract, and sedate all fellow prisoners. On this side of the walls, words spoken by the jailers are meaningless and are no longer useful for thought. They cut through nothing. Reject them even when thinking silently to oneself.
By contrast, prisoners have their own vocabulary with which they think. Many words are kept secret and many are local, with countless variations. Small words and phrases, small yet containing a world: I’ll-show-you-my-way, sometimes-wonder, pajarillo, something-happening-in-B-wing, stripped, take-this-small-earring, died-for-us, go-for-it, etc.
Between fellow prisoners there are conflicts, sometimes violent. All prisoners are deprived, yet there are degrees of deprivation and the differences of degree provoke envy. On this side of the walls life is cheap. The very facelessness of the global tyranny encourages hunts to find scapegoats, to find instantly definable enemies among other prisoners. The asphyxiating cells then become a madhouse. The poor attack the poor, the invaded pillage the invaded. Fellow prisoners should not be idealized.
Without idealization, simply take note that what they have in common—which is their unnecessary suffering, their endurance, their cunning—is more significant, more telling, than what separates them. And from this, new forms of solidarity are being born. The new solidarities start with the mutual recognition of differences and multiplicity. So this is life! A solidarity, not of masses but of interconnectivity, far more appropriate to the conditions of prison.
The authorities do their systematic best to keep fellow prisoners misinformed about what is happening elsewhere in the world prison. They do not, in the aggressive sense of the term, indoctrinate. Indoctrination is reserved for the training of the small élite of traders and managerial and market experts. For the mass prison population the aim is not to activate them, but to keep them in a state of passive uncertainty, to remind them remorselessly that there is nothing in life but risk, and that the earth is an unsafe place.
This is done with carefully selected information, with misinformation, commentaries, rumors, fictions. Insofar as the operation succeeds, it proposes and maintains a hallucinating paradox, for it tricks a prison population into believing that the priority for each one of them is to make arrangements for their own personal protection and to acquire somehow, even though incarcerated, their own particular exemption from the common fate. This image of mankind as transmitted through a view of the world is truly without precedent. Mankind is presented as a coward; only winners are brave. In addition, there are no gifts; there are only prizes.
Prisoners have always found ways of communicating with one another. In today’s global prison, cyberspace can be used against the interests of those who first installed it. Like this, prisoners inform themselves about what the world does each day, and they follow suppressed stories from the past and so stand shoulder to shoulder with the dead.
In doing so, they rediscover little gifts, examples of courage, a single rose in a kitchen where there’s not enough to eat, indelible pains, the indefatigability of mothers, laughter, mutual aid, silence, ever-widening resistance, willing sacrifice, more laughter…
The messages are brief but they extend in the solitude of their (our) nights.
The final guideline is not tactical but strategic.
The fact that the world’s tyrants are ex-territorial explains the extent of their overseeing power, yet it also indicates a coming weakness. They operate in cyberspace and they lodge in guarded condominiums. They have no knowledge of the surrounding earth. Furthermore, they dismiss such knowledge as superficial, not profound. Only extracted resources count. They cannot listen to the earth. On the ground they are blind. In the local they are lost.
For fellow prisoners the opposite is true. Cells have walls that touch across the world. Effective acts of sustained resistance will be embedded in the local, near and far. Outback resistance, listening to the earth.
Liberty is slowly being found not outside but in the depths of the prison.
Not only did I immediately recognize your voice, speaking from your flat in the Via Paolo Sarpi, I could also guess, thanks to your voice, how you were feeling. I sensed your exasperation or, rather, an exasperated endurance combined—and this is so typical of you—with the quick steps of our next hope.
Copyright ©johnberger2011.

2017年1月19日 星期四

The Arcades Project 目次;日本全集及專輯

Overview A Arcades, Magasins de Nouveautis, Sales Clerks 31 Fashion 62 C Ancient Paris, Catacombs, Demolitions, Decline of Paris 82 D Boredom, Eternal Return 101 Haussmannization, Barricade Fighting 120 F Iron Construction 150 Exhibitions, Advertising, Grandville 171 H The Collector 203 I The Interior, The Trace 212 J Baudelaire 228 K Dream City and Dream House, Dreams of the Future, Anthropological Nihilism, Jung 388 L Dream House, Museum, Spa 405 M The Flâneur 416 N On the Theory of Knowledge, Theory of Progress 456 O Prostitution, Gambling 489 P The Streets of Paris 516 Q Panorama 527 R Mirrors 537  S Painting, Jugendstil, Novelty 543  T Modes of Lighting 562 U Saint-Simon, Railroads 571 Conspiracies, Compagnonnage 603 W Fourier 620 X Marx 651 Y Photography 671 Z The Doll, The Automaton 693 
Social Movement 698 b Daurnier 740 d Literary History, Hugo 744 g The Stock Exchange, Economic History 779 Reproduction Technology, Lithography 786 k The Commune 788 l The Seine, The Oldest Paris 796 Idleness 800 o p Anthropological Materialism, History of Sects 807 Ecole Poly technique 818 


The Arcades Project “通道論”/"拱廊街論"的目次

  • 摘要
    • “巴黎 -十九世紀的首都”(德語草案,1935年)
    • “巴黎 - 十九世紀的首都”(法語稿,1939年)
  • 備忘錄和材料
    • A Arcades, Magasins de Nouveautis, Sales Clerks 31 通道,時尚店,時尚品業務員
    • Fashion 62  時尚
    •  C Ancient Paris, Catacombs, Demolitions, Decline of Paris 82 古老的巴黎地下墓穴,拆遷,巴黎的衰落
    • D Boredom, Eternal Return 101 乏無聊永遠回歸
    • Haussmannization, Barricade Fighting 120奧斯曼型城市重構,路障鬥爭
    • F Iron Construction 150 鋼結構建築 
    • Exhibitions, Advertising, Grandville 171 博覽會廣告Grandville
    • H The Collector 203 收集家
    •  I The Interior, The Trace 212 室內,痕跡
    • J Baudelaire 228  波德萊爾
    •  K Dream City and Dream House, Dreams of the Future, Anthropological Nihilism, Jung 388夢想城市和夢想的住家,未來空間,人類的虛無主義榮格
    •  L Dream House, Museum, Spa 405  夢想中的家屋,博物館,Spa
    • M The Flâneur 416 漫遊者
    •  N On the Theory of Knowledge, Theory of Progress 456  認識論,進步理論 
    • O Prostitution, Gambling 489 賣淫嫖娼賭博
    • P The Streets of Paris 516 巴黎 
    •  Q Panorama 527全景
    •  R Mirrors 537 
    •  S Painting, Jugendstil, Novelty 543  繪畫,新藝術(Art Nouveau),新奇
    • T Modes of Lighting 562 各種照明方式
    • U Saint-Simon, Railroads 571 聖西蒙鐵路
    •  Conspiracies, Compagnonnage 603 陰謀,諸工匠工會
    •  W Fourier 620 傅立葉
    • X Marx 651 馬克思
    •  Y Photography 671
    •   Z The Doll, The Automaton 693 洋娃娃,自動化

  • “土星輪或鋼結構建築”(1928年至1929年)
  • 初始備忘錄[4]
    • “巴黎通道I(Aº - Qº)”(1927年 - 1930年)
  • 最初的草案[5]
    • “通道”(1927年)
    • “二通道巴黎(aº - hº)”(1928 - 1929)


  • 『ヴァルター・ベンヤミン著作集』(晶文社、1969年 - 1975年)
    • 1巻「暴力批判論」
    • 2巻「複製技術時代の芸術
    • 3巻「言語と社会」
    • 4巻「ドイツ・ロマン主義」
    • 5巻「ゲーテ親和力」
    • 6巻「ボードレール」
    • 7巻「文学の危機」
    • 8巻「シュルレアリスム
    • 9巻「ブレヒト
    • 10巻「一方通交路」
    • 11巻「都市の肖像」
    • 12巻「ベルリンの幼年時代」
    • 13巻「新しい天使」
    • 14巻「書簡(1)1910-1928」
    • 15巻「書簡(1)1929-1940」
  • 『複製技術時代の芸術』(紀伊國屋書店、1969年/晶文社、新版1999年)
  • 『ドイツ悲劇の根源』(法政大学出版局、1975年/ちくま学芸文庫(上下)、1999年/「ドイツ悲哀劇の根源」 講談社文芸文庫、2001年)
  • 『教育としての遊び』(晶文社 1981年)   
  • 『モスクワの冬』(晶文社、1982年)
  • 『ドイツの人びと』(晶文社、1984年)
  • 『子どものための文化史』(晶文社、1988年/平凡社ライブラリー、2008年)
  • 『来たるべき哲学のプログラム』(晶文社 1992年)
  • 『陶酔論』(晶文社、1992年)
  • 『ベンヤミン/アドルノ往復書簡——1928-1940』(ヘンリー・ローニツ編、晶文社、1996年/みすず書房(上下)、2013年)
  • 『呼ぶ者と聴く者 三つの放送劇』 (西田書店 1989年)
  • パサージュ論』(岩波書店、1993年/岩波現代文庫、2003年)
    • 1巻「パリの原風景」
    • 2巻「ボードレールのパリ」
    • 3巻「都市の遊歩者」
    • 4巻「方法としてのユートピア
    • 5巻「ブルジョアジーの夢」
  • 『ボードレール他五篇——ベンヤミンの仕事』(岩波文庫、1994年)
  • 『暴力批判論他十篇——ベンヤミンの仕事』(岩波文庫、1994年)
  • 『ベンヤミン・コレクション』 (ちくま学芸文庫)。訳者は浅井健二郎久保哲司ほか
    • 1巻「近代の意味」(1995年)
    • 2巻「エッセイの思想」(1996年)
    • 3巻「記憶への旅」(1997年)
    • 4巻「批評の瞬間」(2007年)
    • 5巻「思考のスペクトル」(2010年)
    • 6巻「断片の力」(2012年)
    • 7巻「〈私〉記から超〈私〉記へ」(2014年)
  • 『パリ論/ボードレール論集成』(ちくま学芸文庫、2015年)
  • 『図説写真小史』(ちくま学芸文庫、1998年)(解説金子隆一
  • 『ドイツ・ロマン主義における芸術批評の概念』(ちくま学芸文庫、2001年)
  • 『ベンヤミン・アンソロジー』(河出文庫、2011年)
  • 『この道、一方通行』(みすず書房、2014年)
  • 『[新訳・評注] 歴史の概念について』(未來社、2015年)


  • “瓦爾特·本雅明文集”(Shobunsha,1969年至1975年)
    • 第1卷“暴力批判理論”
    • 第2卷“ 藝術在時代的工作機械複製”
    • 第3卷“語言與社會生活”
    • 第4卷“德國浪漫主義”
    • 5卷“歌德的親和力”
    • 6卷“波德萊爾”
    • 7卷“文學的危機。”
    • 第8卷“ 超現實主義 ”
    • 第9卷“ 布萊希特 ”
    • 第10卷“在另一方面Tsuko之路”
    • 第11卷“的城市的肖像”。
    • 第12卷“ 柏林的童年。”
    • 第13卷的“新天使”
    • 第14卷“字母(1)1910至1928年”
    • 第15卷“字母(1)1929至1940年”
  • “在時代的藝術作品機械複製”(紀伊國屋書店,1969 / Shobunsha,1999年新版)
  • “原產地德國悲劇”(法政大學出版局,1975 / 竹馬學藝文庫(上下),1999 /“劇中的德國悲哀根” 講談社的文學平裝本,2001年)
  • “播放作為一種教育”(Shobunsha 1981)   
  • “莫斯科的冬天”(Shobunsha,1982年)
  • “德國人”的(Shobunsha,1984年)
  • “歷史文化兒童”(Shobunsha,1988 /平凡社圖書館,2008年)
  • “來到節目的哲學”(1992年Shobunsha)
  • “欣快理論”(Shobunsha,1992)
  • “本傑明/ 阿多諾往返信--1928-1940”(亨利Ronitsu,編,Shobunsha,1996 /美鈴書房(上下),2013年)
  • “播劇的人三和聽那些所謂的誰”(西田書店,1989年)
  • “ 通道理論”(岩波書店,1993 / 岩波現代平裝,2003年)
    • 第1卷“巴黎的原風景”。
    • 第2卷“ 波德萊爾在巴黎”
    • 第3卷“長廊的城市。”
    • 4卷“作為一種烏托邦 ”
    • 5卷“的資產階級的夢想。”
  • “波德萊爾等五母雞 -本傑明工作”(岩波,1994年)
  • “暴力批判理論再過十年母雞 -工作本傑明”(岩波,1994年)
  • “本傑明·文集”(竹馬館長平裝本)。翻譯是兒郎淺井 - 鐵二久保
    • 第1卷,“現代意義”(1995)
    • 第2卷,“論文的精神”(1996年)
    • 第3卷,“西遊記記憶”(1997年)
    • 4卷“批評時刻”(2007年)
    • 5卷“的思維譜”(2010年)
    • 6卷,“碎片的力量”(2012)
    • 7卷“從<I>符號超<I>符號”(2014)
  • “巴黎理論/波德萊爾理論文集”(竹馬館長平裝本,2015年)
  • “畫報照片簡史”(竹馬館長平裝本,1998年)(解說龍一金子
  • “德國浪漫主義的藝術批評的概念”(竹馬館長平裝本,2001年)
  • “本傑明·文集”(kawade平裝書,2011年)
  • “這樣,單向”(美鈴書房,2014年)
  • “[新譯-Hyochu]歷史的概念”(Mikisha,2015年)