While dating shows have been popular in Korean reality TV, in recent years, the entertainment industry has witnessed the emergence of a new genre: divorce shows. Unlike dating shows, which highlight the optimism of new romantic beginnings, these divorce shows reveal the complex reality of failed marriages. Characterized by intense and raw emotions, shows like We Got Divorced (우리 이혼했어요) feature divorced couples living together temporarily, revealing tension, resentment, and the unresolved issues that led to their breakup. The growing popularity of the divorce genre points to deeper questions: What lies beneath Korea’s promotion of this genre? Is it mere entertainment or commentary on how love and marriage are understood in modern Korean culture?

It seems that divorce programs’ rise in popularity reflects broader societal shifts in how marriages are perceived in Korea. Divorce has become a more socially accepted practice. Once seen as a personal failing, it is now increasingly recognized as a conscious decision for well-being. This perception is reflected in the success of shows like We Got Divorced and Divorce Camp (이혼숙려캠프), both of which have continued into their second seasons. The sustained viewer interest in these programs suggests an affirmation of what was once taboo, without idealizing marriage as an unending, lifelong commitment. 

Nonetheless, the fact that divorce shows are becoming trendy in Korea also reflects the long-standing tradition in reality TV to transform personal stories—those which are most intimate—into public spectacles. Disguised as “authentic,” the filming of these conflicts and heartbreaks is driven by sensationalism. Couples’ stories are often dramatized to captivate an audience. 

Divorce Camp—a show styled like a televised divorce court—does not diverge from this core of spectacle-driven entertainment. The raw footage is cut and edited for dramatic effect. In one episode featuring a wife and her alcoholic husband, the footage focuses solely on the husband's drinking habits—close-up shots of the soju, accompanying snacks, and tense background music help intensify the atmosphere. To broaden its appeal, Divorce Camp also features a diverse range of couples, from middle-aged pairs to interracial marriages, ensuring viewer interest through the novelty and variety. 

This spectacle does not end with only the editing technique. The key feature of Divorce Camp’s format is its mock court setting: the hosts watch and review the footage. Although the host’s role is to guide the couples to their own final verdicts, their commentaries also dramatize the conflict. They react, dissect, and comment on the couples, often expressing their shock or disapproval. This performative judgment not only makes Divorce Camp more appealing but also transforms the audience into active participants in the spectacle. Viewers are invited to identify with the commentators, creating a shared sense of moral superiority over the couples. Together, these elements create a moral distance between the audience and the complex realities of the couples, reducing their experiences to consumable content. 

At their core, divorce shows thrive on the pleasure of voyeurism. By exposing the breakdown of marriages, these shows encourage viewers to fully immerse themselves in the private emotions of others, normally off-limits to unrelated parties. In each episode of Divorce Camp, cameras are installed in the couple’s home for an entire week, operating as surveillance tools to capture unfiltered conflict and behavior. Viewers are quite literally invited into the marital space to observe the ugly and pitiful, without any actual involvement. 

Some viewers also report experiencing emotional relief from watching such shows. When the couples in Divorce Camp are sent to marriage counseling, viewers often empathize with their emotional journeys. Witnessing the hardships and potential healing process allows the audience to process their own feelings and find a sense of catharsis. Yet there is something unsettling about this emotional release: it is a catharsis experienced through the plight of others—one that is mediated through selective editing. Furthermore, one must question if such emotion is based on anything substantial, when reality TV relies on constructed narratives. We Got Divorced frames interactions between ex-couples with an undertone of reconciliation, but how much of this reconciliation is real, and how much is shaped by a scripted desire for romance designed to maximize audience engagement?  

In the end, divorce shows are more than just a passing trend. They reflect a cultural shift in how love and marriage are perceived in modern Korean culture. These shows also reveal a voyeuristic impulse in the audience: we are always willing to consume intimate emotions as a form of entertainment. What ultimately ties the elements of spectacle, voyeurism, and catharsis together is the fact that divorce shows dehumanize their participants, reducing them into consumable figures whose struggles and personal lives are edited for maximum appeal and viewer engagement.