The phenomenon is swift and ruthless: individuals rocket to celebrity-level stardom in mere weeks or months, only to crash as fast as they rise. South Korea has witnessed a rise in so-called “thunderbolt stars”—celebrities who attain fame and wealth almost overnight, often through platforms like YouTube and Netflix. But as quickly as they rise, their popularity usually plummets at the first sign of controversy. “It’s almost as if the public has been waiting for someone to rise only to tear them down in a collective effort,” note experts.
Korean chef Kang Seung-won, better known by his stage name, Triple Star, rose to fame as a contestant on the popular Netflix cooking show “Culinary Class Wars.” But his newfound fame was soon marred by media reports about his personal life. Another contestant from the same show, Yu Bi-bim, disclosed that he had been arrested for running a restaurant illegally. Some fans speculated that “as Yu became famous, he might have felt compelled to reveal this information amid intense media exposure and threats to reveal criminal past.”
Kwak Joon-bin, better known to his 2 million subscribers as his travel YouTube channel KwakTube, faced backlash and lost hundreds of thousands of followers in September after filming a trip to Rome with an actress and former K-pop idol who had been accused of bullying her former girl group member. Fabricated details about Kwak’s personality and behavior from his school days emerged online during this period. While these claims were later found to be made up, it worsened the scandal by blowing it out of proportion.
In Korea, this phenomenon is colloquially dubbed the “popularity spike,” similar to blood sugar spikes following too much sugar intake. The country’s intense digital culture amplifies this trend, where online fame can be fleeting and fickle. “Rumors that might have previously been spread by word of mouth are now shared in the digital world at lightning speed,” says Seol Dong-hoon, a sociology professor at Jeonbuk National University. “The collective psyche that resents someone ‘no different from me’ becoming famous fuels this rapid online scrutiny.”
Exposing celebrity crimes and misconduct can have a positive social impact, such as the 2018 Burning Sun scandal, which shed light on serious crimes such as drug use and sexual assault among celebrities. However, recent “popularity spikes” raise concerns about unverified information spreading rapidly online. For instance, actress Jeon Jong-seo recently faced bullying accusations in April, yet no evidence has surfaced since.
“On social media platforms like YouTube, attention drives views, and views translate to revenue,” says Yoo Hyun-jae, a journalism professor at Sogang University. “Sensational content often rides the wave of popularity surrounding these “thunderbolt stars,” even when unverified, and when proven false, it simply fades away as if nothing had ever happened.”
The trend of subjecting public figures to “witch hunts” before verifying the facts reflects what some see as broader societal anger. In 2007, the number of people with a criminal record in Korea surpassed 10 million. This includes minor offenses such as speeding tickets. By the 2020s, it is estimated that nearly 30% of the population may hold a criminal record. Given this figure, experts worry that digging into minor and resolved past mistakes could be a form of “collective pathology,” a manifestation of Korea’s current environment where people are collectively “extremely angry.”
“Many feel alienated from the standards of ‘mainstream success’ as the country becomes more economically polarized,” says Choi Hang-sup, a sociology professor at Kookmin University. “Under the guise of anonymity in the digital world, exposing even the minor flaws of public figures provides a sense of power and satisfaction—a pleasure that, for some, borders on the pathological need to bring others down.”
