The Libyan uprising has been a triumph for both 24-hour news channels and for terrestrial TV's normal news programming. Similarly, the television reports of the daily demonstrations in Cairo brought the story of the Egyptian revolt alive in a way that no other media platform could match
In times past, I have been critical of 24-hour television news. Aside from the understandable repetition, the speculative nature of much of the output is both frustrating and journalistically suspect.
I have also registered my lack of enthusiasm for some of the regular news output, not least those annoying times when the news anchor in the studio is forced to stage a live interview with the correspondent out on the road.
That nonsensical practice rarely, if ever, adds anything to the reporter's original report.
But the TV coverage within Libya and Egypt has captured the spirit of the protests so brilliantly that I've been finding myself in front of the television far more often than usual. You get a real sense of the mix of uninhibited enthusiasm and worrying incoherence.
Admittedly, I'm a news junkie.
When big international stories break I want to know what's happening, not only as quickly as possible, but I want to see it happen.
I have noted - who could not? - that social media have had a special role to play, especially in Egypt and Tunisia. Twitter, particularly, has been used by the people to mobilise, to warn and to inform. That is excellent and I'm not about to get into a silly argument about new media versus old media.
In the modern world media platforms are complimentary. No-one believes that it is possible to receive intelligent analysis in 140 characters. Similarly, we are aware that newsprint newspapers are out of date by the time they hit the mat every morning (less so for evening papers like this one, of course).
Meanwhile, with running stories, there is little doubt that television is invaluable. Sometimes, as during the invasion of Iraq, TV suffers from not being able to go where it likes. Its reporters and camera operators are subject to restrictions, especially when embedding is the order of the day.
By contrast, popular uprisings, such as those currently occurring across the Middle East, offer the opportunity to tell a moving story without the dead hand of "the authorities" preventing journalistic inquiry.
I was switching between the BBC's news channel, Sky News and al Jazeera English yesterday and admiring the way their reporters were doing their best to explain the complexities of the Libyan situation.
On-the-spot reports from various Libyan cities caught the excitement and the chaos, as did the coverage of the situation from the increasingly fractious groups of people massing at the Libya-Tunisian border.
There were, of course, speculative elements, with a range of "experts" giving their opinions. Were Gaddafi's forces really retaking cities that had fallen to the rebels? Would a no-fly zone be introduced? Would there be further seizures of Gaddafi's assets? There was also the inevitable use of loop-tape film at times. That was offset by a freshness that made the watching experience more than usually rewarding.
Most interesting of all has been the way Gaddafi has been using TV.
His son, Saif, helped a special press conference in Tripoli for the BBC's Jeremy Bowen, ITN's Bill Neeley and members of the US networks, having ensured that they reached the city before any newspaper reporter.
Then Gaddafi gave a joint interview to Bowen and to ABC's star reporter, Christiane Amanpour, appearing to be amazingly relaxed in front of the cameras, speaking occasionally in English. It's true that Marie Colvin of the Sunday Times was there too, a correspondent who has met Gaddafi several times previously down the years, but the main platform for her work was days away. In the meantime, obviously eager not to lose the news value of what she learned, she gave radio and TV interviews about the meeting.
For example, she appeared on CNN to say that Gaddafi had probably staged the interview in order to dispel rumours that he had left Libya. However mad he sometimes may have appeared during his public rants, Gaddafi is very aware of the power of the western media.
He spent more than an hour with the three journalists, answering even the most provocative questions with apparent calm. There was one wonderful telling moment.
Amanpour asked him: "If you say they do love you, then why are they capturing Benghazi and saying they're against you?"
Gaddafi replied: "It's al Qaeda. It's not my people. They came from outside."
Bowen then said: "So they're the people pulling down the posters and putting up the flag of the king?"
This bit of film, part of which was shown on the main BBC TV news on Monday evening, showed that Gaddafi was in complete denial about the successful uprising against him elsewhere in his country.
We, the viewers, knew that because of the contrast between that TV interview and the parallel footage of the street protests - the flag-waving demonstrators, the effigies of Gaddafi hanging from on high, the children playing on tanks.
I have been particularly taken with the reports in Egypt, and now Libya, of the BBC's correspondent, Lyse Doucet, and the easy, conversational way she conducts interviews with people on the ground. How ever well newspaper reporters convey such interviews, there is nothing quite like seeing them on TV. They have an authenticity that is unmatchable in print.
I am aware that I might be sounding overly enthusiastic about television. I am not. I just want to place it in the correct context. In this volatile, unfolding news situation, it has been the leading media platform. It is, of course, complemented by newspapers offering long-form journalism - comment, interpretation and analysis - that helps to provide people with yet more insight.
We, in the west, are indeed fortunate to have such a rich media choice. When we witness the collapse of these totalitarian Arab states, it is something to celebrate
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