The Olympics, once a guaranteed national obsession in South Korea, are unfolding this year to an unusually muted response. Sparse coverage, limits on online sharing and the burden of record-high broadcasting fees have combined to drain momentum from what had traditionally been one of the country’s most unifying television events.
At the center of the disappointment is JTBC, the network that secured exclusive domestic rights in a deal that industry executives say cost roughly $230 million, with total spending tied to production and operations likely to exceed $500 million. The figure represents a steep jump from previous cycles and left little room for error in attracting mass audiences or advertising demand.
Instead, many viewers say they are barely aware the Games are taking place.
Unlike past Olympics, when the nation’s major terrestrial broadcasters saturated schedules with live competition, studio analysis and human-interest features, coverage this time has appeared thin. With fewer crews deployed on site, simultaneous events have gone uncovered, and interviews with medal contenders or behind-the-scenes stories have been limited.
The exclusive structure has compounded the problem. For decades, KBS, MBC and SBS jointly acquired rights through the so-called Korea Pool, ensuring blanket exposure across free-to-air channels and wide availability of clips for news and social media. JTBC initially sought to resell parts of the package to those networks and to digital platforms, but negotiations fell apart. Television broadcasts remained concentrated on a single channel, while online distribution was largely confined to Naver Sports and its streaming arm, Chzzk.
The narrower pipeline has translated into weaker buzz. Highlights that might once have ricocheted across community sites, group chats and short-form video feeds have circulated slowly or not at all. In offices and schools, conversations that used to revolve around overnight victories or judging disputes have been replaced by other topics.
Athletes, some observers argue, are paying the price. Competitors who spent years preparing for a brief global spotlight are finding that the spotlight at home has dimmed.
Even moments that might previously have ignited national debate have struggled to break through. During a mixed doubles curling match between South Korea and Sweden last week, referees suggested ending play early with two ends remaining, a rare intervention that drew criticism abroad. Yet the episode generated limited reaction domestically, reflecting how few viewers were following in real time.
There is still time for a turnaround. The closing ceremony is about two weeks away, and marquee events could yet capture attention. But the Lunar New Year holiday, typically a peak period for family viewing, is approaching without the usual sense that the Olympics are driving the national mood.
Within the broadcasting industry, the implications are already being debated. If ratings and sponsorship fail to accelerate, JTBC may be left carrying the weight of an enormously expensive wager on exclusivity, one that rivals say underestimated how crucial broad, frictionless access has become in the age of social media.
The Olympics have not disappeared in South Korea. They are still being held, medals are still being won and dedicated fans are still tuning in. What has faded is the feeling that the country is watching together.
For a network that spent hundreds of millions of dollars to command the stage, the quiet may prove to be the loudest verdict of all.
