The Shared Secret

12 April 2026. Published by Benoît Labourdette.

10 min

Creating a space where the intimacy of a whisper becomes a collective work. Engaging empathic listening, emotional regulation and creative thinking in a shared gesture. And, more profoundly still, daring to invent a process by listening to what is happening in the group, rather than applying a recipe.

When a method invents itself in the moment

The Shared Secret was born from an improvisation. In September 2024, during a first session with a group of students in cultural mediation who did not yet know each other, I sensed, as the day went on, that what I had planned no longer matched what I perceived from the group. There was something slightly hard in the atmosphere, a spirit of efficiency that left little room for gentleness or intimacy. I had a microphone, a laptop and a Bluetooth speaker in my equipment. The process assembled itself in my mind in a matter of moments, drawing on all my previous experience. It had never existed in this form before.

I share this genesis as a preamble because it carries a methodological lesson as important as the method itself. What happened that day was that a process was born from listening to the group, not from a pre-established programme. A year and a half later, a student who had taken part in that session told me: “I need an excuse to get into intimacy with someone else. It’s very hard to say to someone: so, what are your traumas? But I need excuses to get to the same place.” This statement says something important: the method provides a framework (an “excuse”) for daring what ordinary social life does not allow.

The Shared Secret can be taken up, adapted, applied as it stands in other contexts, and the purpose of this article is to describe it precisely enough for that. But it would be to miss an essential part of the approach to retain only the method without retaining the way it appeared. Because what gave this moment its power was precisely the fact that it was not planned. For the unexpected to occur, one must leave room for it, in particular by carrying tools that one does not know whether one will use or not.

Daring to try things, risking experiments, listening to what is happening and inventing a process that responds to what one perceives of the group’s needs: this is a professional competence in its own right, one that deserves to be named, valued and passed on. It relates to what institutional pedagogy calls the co-construction of the institution, the idea, carried by Jean Oury at the La Borde Clinic, according to which the institution is not something imposed on people, but something created together, every day, by collectively defining roles, rules and spaces.

Applying a model is necessary. But inventing a process in response to what one perceives of reality is something else. It means accepting not knowing in advance, taking a risk, allowing oneself to be unsettled by what happens. This is perhaps where the deep creativity of facilitation lies: not in the application of techniques, but in the ability to create new forms, suited to the moment, to the group, to the energy present. And then, sharing these experiences, the method itself, of course, but also the story of how it came into being.

The method: The Shared Secret

Principle

The Shared Secret is a method of collective intelligence that operates a progressive shift from the intimate to the collective, from private whispering to shared listening, from individual vulnerability to collective creation. The participants, seated in a circle with their eyes closed, pass from one to the next a secret whispered in the ear, then each one entrusts their own words to a microphone, and the recording is finally listened to collectively. The very name “shared secret” designates this fertile paradox: a secret is no longer a secret once it is shared, and it is precisely in this gift (the gesture of entrusting something intimate to another person) that the bond is built.

Equipment needed

A quiet, comfortable space, with chairs or cushions for sitting in a circle.
A sensitive microphone (for example, a Fifine mic or a voice recorder) to capture the whispers.
An audio recorder or a computer to capture the sounds.
Optional: an inspiring space (exhibition room, garden, place with history) to enrich the sensory dimension.

Step 1 – Preparation and setting the atmosphere

Arrange the seats in a circle (but sitting on the floor is also possible). The circle is not merely a spatial arrangement: it establishes a symbolic equality and physically demonstrates that every voice has its place. Briefly explain the exercise, without revealing too much: the idea is to share something intimate, a secret, a thought, something that drives you. Emphasise listening and mutual respect. Ask the participants to close their eyes. This simple gesture brings about a change of state: it shifts from the mode of ordinary social interaction to a mode of inner attention, contemplation, availability to the other.

Step 2 – The whispering ritual around the circle

The facilitator, who keeps their eyes open, waits until they sense that their neighbour on the left is ready to listen, then whispers a secret or a personal thought, for example, what drives them in their work, something they haven’t yet said, a question that preoccupies them. The neighbour listens with eyes closed, then opens their eyes and in turn whispers to their neighbour on the left. What is passed on is their own secret, or an entirely new idea born from what they have just experienced. The process continues until the circle is complete.

What is at play here is fundamental. Each passage transforms the initial material. Unlike the classic game of Chinese whispers, where distortion is a source of laughter, here it is a source of creation. Each person is not a simple relay but an author, who rewrites the material received from their own interiority. We find here the principle of the palimpsest: successive layers of writing enrich the work rather than erase it.

Step 3 – Speaking into the microphone

After the circle of whispers, a microphone is placed in the centre. Each person is invited to whisper their secret or a new thought, which will be recorded. The transition from whispering into someone’s ear to whispering into a microphone is an important symbolic leap: one moves from addressing a single person to addressing the group, but the register of whispering is maintained, preserving the intimacy of the gesture. It is this tension between the intimate and the public that gives the moment its poetic power. The recording becomes a sensitive witness to the diversity of voices and shared emotions. Above all, each person is free not to say the same thing into the microphone, to choose what they publicly reveal. Having dared intimacy in someone’s ear with eyes closed, a first door was opened, and in this second door of the microphone, knowing it will be heard, one enters a different modality, but one nourished and opened by the first.

Step 4 – Shared listening

The recording is listened to collectively. This moment of shared listening opens a space for discussion and reflection on the emotions felt, the ideas shared and the dynamics of the group. Each person can express what they experienced, what emerged within them. This reflective feedback is fundamental: it enables the conscious recognition of what the experience has set in motion, the naming of emotions, the making of connections.

Hearing one’s own voice among others, discovering what the others chose to confide, perceiving the sonic texture of the whole: all of this strengthens the sense of belonging. The sound work thus created can be kept, and even put online, shared, as a sensitive trace of a group moment.

To give an idea of what emerges, here are a few fragments from the recording of this first experience (a partial transcription is attached as an appendix): “My secret about my interest in art and culture is that I believe it allows us to share and express unspeakable things.” “I’m embarrassed to speak into this microphone.” “My dream is to be an artist. And to be able to convey on large canvases my emotions, my vision of the world and my experiences.” “If we say that school guarantees the freedom of individuals, then I believe that culture guarantees their emancipation.” “I would like to gain confidence in myself and in my initiatives.” In this mosaic of whispered voices, one can hear the diversity of attitudes, of modesty and of impulses, and the depth of what the process is able to release.

The secret as a psychic gesture

The choice of the word “secret” is not trivial. The secret occupies a particular place in psychic life. It is what we keep to ourselves, what constitutes us in our singularity, what separates us from others as much as it connects us to ourselves. In psychoanalysis, the secret is linked to intimacy, shame, desire, to what cannot be said just anywhere or to just anyone. Choosing it as the object of the exercise is to touch on something deep.

But the gesture proposed here is not about “revealing” one’s secret in the clinical sense. It is about entrusting something intimate to someone, within a ritualised framework, protected by the gentleness of whispering and closed eyes. The secret may be light or serious, personal or professional, emotional or intellectual. What matters is the gesture of trust: giving to the other something one does not usually give. A student put it well: “I’m thirsty for intimacy. It was a good framework for creating intimacy between us.” This is precisely it: the method provides a legitimate framework, a permission, for a gesture that ordinary social life renders almost impossible.

The psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott spoke of the “transitional space”, that space between self and other, between the real and the imaginary, where play, creativity and culture become possible. The Shared Secret creates precisely such a space: neither entirely intimate (since one shares), nor entirely public (since one whispers), it is that in-between where speech can take risks, transform itself, become creation.

Three ways of inhabiting the exercise: the question of freedom

This inaugural experience taught me things. Faced with the proposal to share a secret, participants do not react in the same way. The student who spoke about it a year and a half later remembers her surprise: “I was very taken aback by the people who said ’my secret is that I don’t have a secret’. There was someone who said nothing.” This observation reveals three stances towards the process, and all three must be welcomed:

Those who play the game. For some, the framework of the Shared Secret is exactly what they were looking for: permission to enter into intimacy with the other. The exercise responds to a deep need for connection that ordinary social interactions do not satisfy. For them, the moment is intense, sometimes foundational.
Those who resist. Others do not recognise themselves in the proposal. They may find it incongruous, pointless, inappropriate. And that is their right. Someone who says “nothing” or “I don’t have a secret” does not jeopardise the process. On the contrary: the coexistence of different stances enriches the collective experience. Resistance, when respected, is part of the work.
Those who would like to but cannot. This is perhaps the most delicate situation. Some people would like to open up but cannot find the strength to do so in the moment. Here, the facilitator’s stance is decisive: no judgement, no pressure. But the hypothesis I put forward is this: even these people are enriched by the experience. They have seen others dare, they have seen that no one was stigmatised, mocked, judged. And perhaps next time something similar presents itself, they will dare. As the student put it: “Just the fact of seeing that it’s possible, even if today isn’t the day, it will nourish the possibility that another day...”

This freedom is constitutive of the method. The process must be designed so that it is safe for everyone: enriching for those who engage, and not threatening for those who do not. Someone who says nothing, “it doesn’t matter, they have the right, it’s their path, it belongs to them. They are enriched by what happens and then it’s their story, they do what they want with it.” This attitude of radical non-judgement is not a pedagogical abdication: it is the very condition for the exercise to work.

The psychosocial skills mobilised

Psychosocial skills (PSS), as defined by the World Health Organization and elaborated by Santé publique France, refer to a set of capacities that enable a person to face the challenges of daily life by mobilising emotions, thoughts and behaviours. They fall into three categories: emotional, social and cognitive skills. The Shared Secret engages all three:

Emotional skills. The exercise places participants in an unusual situation (eyes closed, waiting for a whisper, in the silence of the circle) that gives rise to emotions (apprehension, curiosity, surprise) that each person is led to identify and welcome. Whispering a secret, receiving someone else’s, then speaking into a microphone in front of the group: each step requires managing an emotional surge, finding a balance between what one feels and what one chooses to share. The poetic dimension of the exercise also provides an aesthetic framework for expressing emotions that are sometimes difficult to articulate.
Social skills. Empathic listening is the skill most directly engaged. As child psychiatrist Marie-Noëlle Clément points out, empathy is both a psychosocial skill and the foundation of all others. Receiving a confidence with eyes closed means making oneself entirely available to the other’s words, without visual cues, in a very pure form of attention. The exercise also imposes a communication stripped of all artifice: no gestures, no eye contact, only voice and words. Each participant takes turns as the person who gives and the one who receives, building bonds founded on respect and acceptance of each person’s uniqueness.
Cognitive skills. The participant does not merely pass on what they received: they transform it, add their own sensitivity, invent a new formulation. To whisper a secret, one must first turn inward, identify what inhabits us, a moment of mindfulness where one accesses a self-knowledge that daily life rarely allows to surface. And managing the urge to laugh nervously, to shrink away, to open one’s eyes, to break the silence: the exercise engages impulse management, not as a constraint, but as the condition for accessing something deeper.

What the method shifts at a deeper level

Beyond the identifiable psychosocial skills, the Shared Secret brings about deeper shifts:

A shift in the relationship to speech. In most professional or educational contexts, speech is functional. Here, it recovers a poetic and sensory dimension. Whispering, by reducing the volume, paradoxically increases the intensity of speech. What is murmured carries more than what is proclaimed.
A shift in the relationship to the body. Closing one’s eyes, leaning in to listen, feeling the physical proximity of the person whispering: the exercise re-engages the body in relationship. Communication is not merely a matter of words, but of presence, breath, warmth. It is an embodied experience.
A shift in the relationship to the group. By moving from a confidence shared between two people to a collective work, the method transforms the group. It is no longer a collection of individuals exchanging, but a collective creating together something that none could have imagined alone.
A shift in the relationship to vulnerability. The method turns vulnerability into a strength. Accepting to entrust a secret, to close one’s eyes, to rely on the other: it means accepting being vulnerable. And it is precisely this shared vulnerability that makes deep connection between people possible.

The facilitator’s stance: listening, risking, not judging

The facilitator plays a key role, but this role is less about technique than about stance. It is about being in a state of openness, offering others a space where they can find their way, contribute, enrich themselves and enrich the collective project. The facilitator is, to use a formulation dear to me, “just a tool, in a way”. They pick up on things, they try. What matters most is the people, not the facilitator.

The facilitator is the guardian of the framework, but a flexible framework, one that provides enough markers to release creative energies. They ensure a welcoming atmosphere, encourage creativity, respect each person’s rhythm. Some participants will need time to open up, others will be more spontaneous: the point is to leave room for all forms of expression, without ever forcing speech. The facilitator is not there to obtain results but to create the conditions in which people will move closer to themselves.

They are also the one who initiates the movement by being the first to whisper. This position is decisive: by opening up first, the facilitator legitimises the gesture for everyone else. It is a form of coherence between words and actions. Advocating listening without listening, encouraging vulnerability without making oneself vulnerable: the inconsistency cancels the effect.

This also requires vigilance about risks. The facilitator must understand the psychic dynamics of groups, the phenomena of projection, the possibilities of emotional destabilisation. It is not about doing anything under the guise of spontaneity: creative intuition intersects with skills, experience, a knowledge of human dynamics. As with any process that touches on intimacy, the facilitator’s responsibility is engaged.

Finally, the facilitator’s stance includes the ability to listen to the group and to invent in the moment. As in institutional pedagogy, it is not about rolling out a programme but about creating the institution with the people present. The facilitator who listens to what the group needs to experience, and who dares to respond with a creative proposal, makes a gesture as important as the exercise itself. Like in school playgrounds, where children sometimes spend more time defining the rules of the game than actually playing, and that is perhaps what matters most.

Contexts of use and variations

The Shared Secret can be used in a wide variety of contexts: creativity workshops, team seminars, professional training, educational programmes, cultural mediation, artistic events. It is particularly suited to groups meeting for the first time: the method accelerates the creation of bonds of a quality that conventional introductions cannot achieve.

The method can be themed: directing secrets around a subject (culture, the environment, professional backgrounds, a shared experience). Other media can be used, drawing, writing, photography, for those who are more comfortable with other modes of expression. The integration of multimedia elements (visual projections, sound creation, artistic performance) can enrich the experience.

In an educational context, particularly with adolescents who are sometimes distant from conventional frameworks, the method provides privileged access to working on emotions. As Marie-Noëlle Clément points out, we should not hesitate to return, including with older young people, to experiences that allow the identification and naming of emotions. This is precisely the purpose of the approach led by the DRAC Nouvelle-Aquitaine and the PJJ Limousin Regional Directorate around cultural media as levers for developing psychosocial skills: not to inform or raise awareness, but to engage people in a lived experience.

What this experience opens up

The Shared Secret is a method that can be reproduced. But the invitation that emerges at the end of this article goes further: it is to consider every collective moment as an opportunity to invent. Other forms are possible, other processes remain to be imagined, from other intuitions, other groups, other needs. What matters is the availability to what is happening, and the courage to propose something that did not exist a minute before.

The partial transcription of the recording from this first experience, attached as an appendix, gives a sense of the diversity of what emerges when such a space is opened: dreams, discomforts, convictions, fragilities, gratitude. Each whispered voice is at once singular and connected to the others. This is perhaps what collective intelligence is: not a result, but a movement, where each person brings who they are, and where the group creates something that none could have imagined alone.