How RTS uses 1,2 billion in fees to delete its own sex offenders from the internet

Eurovision Song Contest 1989, Lausanne, glitter and confetti: The man who produced the show had been raping his own daughter for years, between the ages of four and eight. Sixteen years later, Raymond Zumsteg was convicted. Two decades later, his former employer, Radio Télévision Suisse, still hasn't offered a word of apology, hasn't kept a single photo in its archives, and hasn't even added him to Wikipedia.

Five cases, several legally binding convictions for sexual offenses against children and adolescents, a computer scientist forced into a hunger strike, a television presenter who fled to Haiti, a key article wiped from the internet on the day of its author's death. Uncovered not by the institution itself, not by Le Temps, not by the Tages-Anzeiger, and certainly not by the NZZ, but now, in May 2026, by the French investigative journalist Idriss Aberkane in a three-part documentary series. Incidentally, this entire universe of silence is financed with over 1,2 billion Swiss francs in license fees per year.

The Eurovision man and his own daughter
Zumsteg, a manager at TSR and co-organizer of the 1989 Eurovision Song Contest in Lausanne, was convicted in Switzerland in 2005 for the repeated rape of his daughter, according to France Soir, Vigousse, and Le Temps. The offenses took place between her fourth and eighth years of age. Several sources indicate a prison sentence of approximately ten years. He did not serve his full sentence.

There is no entry for RTS on its Wikipedia page today. Images gone. Traces erased. Anyone wanting to verify whether this man ever existed has to dig through Swiss libraries for old press clippings. Very convenient for an institution that rakes in over 1,2 billion Swiss francs annually for its digital legitimacy.

In the documentary footage, a witness says: "Everyone knew." According to Patrick Nordmann, Zumsteg was temporarily transferred from Geneva to Bern – not as a punishment, but simply to "get him out of the way." TSR Director Guillaume Chenevière later agreed to his return to Geneva in exchange for "extraordinary funding" from Bern for a project close to his heart. That's the term used in public broadcasting for what goes by a different name in everyday language.

Allenbach – only “private life”, of course.
Patrick Allenbach, a journalist and presenter at RTS for thirty years, was convicted in 2012 not in Geneva, but before the Tribunal de Bourg-en-Bresse in France: three counts of sexual assault against minors under fifteen years of age. The court explicitly recognized his professional authority as an aggravating circumstance. His sentence: three years' probation and €20,000 in damages. The maximum sentence would have been ten years.

24 Heures documents the method: Allenbach used his media prominence, latched onto teenagers from his studio audience, invited them to meals, and then to his house in Sergy, France, discussing video games and assaults in the same session. The then-director of RTS, Gilles Marchand, officially stated that the allegations concerned "actions from his private life." The French court found the exact opposite and included it in its verdict. The director of a public broadcasting corporation wasn't bothered by this. His station is just as much a public service broadcaster as his silence.

Images on the work computer, a whistleblower on a hunger strike
Three more cases remain from the Aberkane dossier. Thierry C., an employee of RTS, whose full surname has long since been published in the magazine Omerta. According to research, computer scientist Jorge Resende discovered hundreds of child pornography images on his work computer. The institution did not file a criminal complaint. Later, compelled by the facts, it called the material "punishable"—criminal. Nevertheless, no prosecution took place.

Resende loses his job. He goes on a hunger strike. The only member of parliament to submit an interpellation is Oscar Freysinger – that outsider whom respectable mainstream Switzerland labels with the same mechanical reflex with which it sweeps away anything that doesn't fit the established mold. In 2010, Resende is rehabilitated through court-ordered mediation. The presiding judge notes that the matter was treated "like a family secret." "Family" is what RTS calls something that should interest a criminal lawyer.

Roland B., also an employee, was convicted in the early 2000s for possessing hundreds of child pornography images on his work computer. Coverage in Swiss mainstream media: a few sentences, a few weeks, then silence. Walter B., a radio presenter for years at Swiss public radio (RVN), was convicted in absentia, fled to Haiti, and resurfaced there with a local press network and his own restaurant. TripAdvisor conducted investigative work that Le Temps has yet to attempt.

The article disappeared on the day the journalist died
The seminal article on this issue was written by Patrick Nordmann, co-founder of the satirical magazine Vigousse: “La SSR ne perd pas le pédophile” (The SSR doesn't lose the pédophile), January 14, 2011. It was the first time it was clearly demonstrated that the RTS was not dealing with isolated incidents, but rather with a network of mutual protection. Patrick Nordmann has since passed away. His key article disappeared from the internet on the day of his death.

A coincidence so perfectly obvious that even the station's script editors wouldn't have let it through. The servers of RTS, a broadcaster with an annual budget of 1,2 billion Swiss francs from mandatory fees, should actually have storage space available to mirror even unpleasant texts. Presumably, however, that space was occupied by yet another Tagesschau rerun about Donald Trump's hair.

Cyberblurring, or how to build a scapegoat
Le Temps was acquired by the Fondation Aventinus in January 2021 for 6,5 million Swiss francs. Heidi.news, also owned by Aventinus, was acquired in the same year for 728,000 Swiss francs. Since then, Heidi.news has published articles portraying a former RTS employee named Yann Lopez as a major harasser of the institution – without once mentioning the names Zumsteg, Allenbach, Thierry C., or Roland B. A brilliant piece of investigative journalism in the sense of investigative omission.

Le Temps delivers the second half of the maneuver: a sprawling investigation into sexual harassment at RTS, entirely centered on Darius Rochebin, the only high-ranking official of Iranian origin. Never charged. Never formally accused. Now in Paris at LCI. The term for this pattern is cyberblurring: a less innocuous, substitute scandal is staged, obscuring all traces of those actually convicted. This is how investigative journalism works when it belongs to a foundation that doesn't want to uncover the truth.

Depardieu out, Zumsteg invisible
In December 2023, RTS ceremoniously announced that it would be removing films starring Gérard Depardieu from its programming. At that time—and even today—there is no legally binding conviction against Depardieu for sexual offenses. There is one against Zumsteg. There is one against Allenbach. There is one against Walter B. There is one against Roland B.

The institution publicly expresses shame for a Frenchman facing charges. Yet, for four of its own employees with legally binding convictions for offenses against minors, this sense of shame remains elusive. No public apology. No full investigation. Aberkane's interview requests were never answered. This is the precise definition of a public service that has only borne that name in its logo for the past two decades: What doesn't tarnish its own record is celebrated; what does tarnish it is swept from the internet and covered up with an imported scandal. Over 1,2 billion Swiss francs in mandatory fees annually finance an institution that has protected convicted sex offenders within its ranks for over two decades and, in the same breath, tells the Swiss public who is morally acceptable and who is not.

Anyone who receives 1,2 billion Swiss francs annually from Swiss taxpayers, protects pedophiles within their own ranks for decades, and simultaneously explains on the evening news which French actors can no longer be shown, is not practicing journalism, but moral money laundering – and calls it "public service broadcasting"! Seven scandals, several convictions, a missing key article, and a whistleblower forced on a hunger strike later, the Swiss electorate must finally ask themselves what they are actually funding with 1,2 billion francs a year – it's not the truth, because that has been coming from Paris for fifteen years!

How RTS uses 1,2 billion in fees to delete its own sex offenders from the internet