Anatomically, humans have existed for around 300,000 years, but civilization began only 5,000 to 6,000 years ago. Since then, we have struggled to balance primal urges with societal expectations. The world has always been on the brink of chaos, and this juggling act has never been easy. From hunter-gatherers to artificial intelligence, the journey has been long. Yet one emotion has remained prevalent: the pleasure of watching others fall apart. The Germans were the first to name this emotion, and we will explore it further.
The Psychology Behind Schadenfreude
Perhaps this vicarious instinct explains why human history is marked by conflict, competition, and conquest. People seek happiness and success, but an uncomfortable truth lingers: triumph feels sweeter when measured against another's failure. The pleasure comes not from suffering itself, but from the reassurance that we are doing better. In modern times, wars still rage, but negative emotions like envy, anger, and schadenfreude dominate our minds. Storytellers are capitalizing on this, creating content that drives viewership and ratings.
Cringe-Binge Culture
Today's media landscape is shaped by our fascination with deeply flawed, socially awkward characters. Whether called cringe-binging, hate-watching, or guilty pleasure, this trend spans scripted dramas, comedies, and reality television in both Western and Indian entertainment. Shows like Desi Bling, The Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives, Schitt's Creek, and Succession exemplify this phenomenon. From Indian Matchmaking to Follow Kar Lo Yaar, we have watched reality shows with cringe factor for decades. But now, the number of such shows has surged. Desi Bling, a remake of Dubai Bling, is having its cringe-victory moment. We cannot stop watching other people's mess.
What Drives Our Obsession?
Consider a woman in a ballroom gown, diamond choker catching the light of an expensive chandelier, being filmed for her wedding. Every gesture is curated for an audience. Meanwhile, in a one-bedroom flat in Patna, a woman watches on her phone, laughing so hard she wakes her mother. This is the central miracle of our media moment: the most expensive parties are watched by those who cannot afford them, not in longing but in joy. They think, look at these idiots. It is catharsis.
Now picture Sima Aunty from Indian Matchmaking. She sits across from a young man in Mumbai, explaining with gravity that a girl from a good family cannot marry someone with misaligned horoscopes. The man nods, despite having a master's degree. In London, a British-Indian woman watching gasps, recognizing the nod from her own dining table. The horror is not that Sima Aunty exists, but that she is so real it feels therapeutic.
Schadenfreude as Therapy
In Schitt's Creek, Moira Rose floats into a store in an avant-garde coat, trying to buy milk. The shopkeeper stares. Moira addresses her as a reporter. The pause lasts forever. The audience exhales and rewinds. This is schadenfreude, catharsis, therapy. Similarly, Succession epitomizes cringe fiction: the Roy family's dinner is polite for four minutes before passive aggression erupts. By dessert, someone weeps, no one apologizes. Tuesday is worse. Audiences cannot get enough of unlikeable characters being greedy, petty, jealous, and drunk with power.
The German Word for It
Psychologists have a word for this pleasure derived from another's misfortune: schadenfreude. Schaden means damage, freude means joy. But pure schadenfreude requires disliking the subjects. Audiences watching Succession do not entirely dislike the Roys; they are fascinated. They quote them, write essays, and argue about which child is most tragic. This is not simple enjoyment of failure; it is using these failures to think about larger issues.
What Cringe Shows Reveal
Cringe-binge shows demonstrate that incomprehensible wealth does not produce happiness. In Succession, the Roys are cruel because the system that made them rich made love a transaction and vulnerability a weakness. Our attraction to awkwardness and failure serves psychological and social functions: it offers a safe outlet for frustration, helps rehearse social situations, and examines privilege and power. We watch dysfunction with pleasure because we need them to be miserable. Their misery is load-bearing. If billionaires were content, the bargain of ordinary life would feel less secure.
Downward social comparison is not cruelty but calibration. The mind notes: they have the helicopter and corner office, but look at the cost. The ledger balances. In the Indian context, Indian Matchmaking is not just enjoying discomfort; it is watching dramatized forces that shape real lives. Sima Taparia is a recognizable authority figure, and the cringe is deeply personal—a mirror of society we cannot look away from.
The Indian Context
Shows like Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives or Desi Bling operate on a related logic. The women are spectacles, not aspirational figures. Their jewellery and holidays are data points in an argument about what money does to people. Audiences navigating economic anxieties watch these women and feel a complex cocktail of emotions beyond envy or contempt. The White Lotus makes audiences feel complicit; the wealthy guests are not uniformly stupid or evil. Some are perceptive, yet they embody contradictions. The show denies a clean moral exit, like real life.
The Pandemic Effect
The pandemic and lockdown removed the veil of shame associated with uncomfortable emotions. We are miserable and want to see and laugh at misery. Working-class characters do not triumph; wealthy characters face no consequences. The system continues. Watching a critique of power is not the same as challenging it. This is honest discomfort.
Therapy Through Cringe
The cringe economy is not a symptom of cultural decline but of cultural intelligence. After a hard day, we want to laugh at crazy, messy, ugly characters. Audiences laughing at Moira Rose are laughing at the gap between performance and reality—a philosophically sophisticated humor. Watching the Roys engage with inherited power and damage. Wincing at Sima Aunty processes real social pressures. In an era of relentless positivity, watching wealthy figures falter offers liberation. It restores balance for an episode, letting us believe the divide between appearance and truth spans all levels.
Schadenfreude is complex. The Germans could not fully capture what the word now encapsulates. We cannot laugh at others' misery unless we dehumanize them, which says nothing good about our species. But that is the point: we are not good. We have darkness within, and now we are comfortable with it. Schadenfreude today is more therapy, more relatable. A global world off with the mask has made us comfortable with the ugly version of us. Popular culture and immense anxiety have peeled off the good-natured facade. On social media, there may be filters, but deep down, there is a reckoning. Life remains awkward, uncomfortable, and ugly. This is the most human realization. That is why we crave cringe characters—whether from a penthouse in Gurgaon or a flat in Patna.
