Secret doesn't mean no one knows. Secret means no one talks.
In the early 1960s (maybe late 1950s) the KKK used to send their garbage to watch voting booths. The ballots on the wall were of a height such that the pens one had to use would stretch the chain to which they were attached. The 'Black' vote was at the top. If the chain extended, someone knew who ya voted for. That was never good.
When I mar ballots--something I seem to have been doing the past six of seven elections--I sign my name legibly. Name and address. You want to talk to me, bring six friends because you go be need them carry you away.
I have never been a fan of secret ballots because they imply I am possibly ashamed of my vote. I never have been. I made two mistakes in my voting 'career', but I'm not ashamed of either mistake. I meant the votes when I did them, and despite wishing I could rescind them, I can't. Life has vicissitudes, and voting is one.
Win, lose, no difference. It's about standing for SOMEthing. More than most ever do, and less than the gods ask for.
I stood for only three elections: I wish I'd lost all of them. They taught me that the responsibilities which accompany the great cheer are a path to a form of isolation no one should have to know.
Since when has a group been able to decide? The loudest speaks most loud. The quietest speaks not at all. Who's the wiser, and wherein does one find the wisest, and even then, should one find that rare individual, who will hear beyond the election result?