Dumb kids. And dumb grannies

On next week's edition of University Challenge, a student is asked to which groups of men the nicknames "cherry-pickers", "cherrymongers" and "Bob's own" have been applied. The contestant guesses "homosexuals" but learns that the correct answer is regiments of the British Army. This exchange shows that ignorance can be dangerous: especially if the poor student should one day find himself in a building where a regimental dinner is taking place.

Is it, though, dangerous for Britain that a young man doesn't know his way round military lingo? Most would say not. Yet apocalyptic conclusions will be drawn by some from another set of questions with embarrassing answers: today's Guardian/ ICM poll, designed to find out if the public is becoming dumber. This shows that 86% of respondents didn't know that Milton wrote Paradise Lost, while 40% were aware that Lara Croft is a video-game character. It's easy to conclude from this fairly typical disparity that modern Britons are bright about trivialities but thick on things of substance.

But, in fact, closer examination questions the idea that a lack-of-learning curve can be drawn across the 20th century. The fact that the greatest ignorance in most areas is shown by the under-24s and the over-65s confuses the view that brains have become increasingly empty. There is, though, some evidence in this poll that the grammar-taught generation are better informed than the comprehensive-educated. Some of the more encouraging findings - 47% name-recognition for TS Eliot, 18% for Seamus Heaney - indicate that it is academy facts which mainly stick. (Both authors are widely taught.)

The poll results also usefully question the strength of the celebrity virus which we generally assume to have poisoned the cultural water supply. The sex life of Anthea Turner has produced dozens of newspaper front pages in the last year and yet little more than a third of people in any age-group could recall the name of her much-publicised second husband.

Many poets can be heard at literary festivals and parties lamenting the "fame" bestowed on Andrew Motion by his appointment as poet laureate. The revelation that 95% of the population have no idea who he is suggests that the idea of literary celebrity (unless enforced by a set-text system), is an oxymoron for all except a tiny reading public. Even the super-selling JK Rowling has no name recognition with two thirds of the population. Publicists, sponsors and newspaper editors may need to consider the possibility that all fame is ultimately fairly local and that people are skilled at tuning out material which fails to interest their existing prejudices.

The results also perhaps question the assumption that general knowledge is an absolute good. Because of the expansion of the media through multi-section publications and 24-hour news, there is more information generally available than ever before. This fact-glut is further encouraged by the internet.

But the sheer range of available information has complicated the definition of what it means to be informed. Few of us could now agree on which 20 facts a well rounded person should know. Are children who know how a computer works more stupid than their parents, who can list the longest rivers in the world? Our general knowledge may have become broader but shallower.

And the questions raised by the survey are echoed in another quiz. Additional evidence that ignorance extends across generation and social sector comes from the most powerful television series of the moment: Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? All previous hit quiz shows - from University Challenge through Mastermind to Fifteen-To-One - have produced a winner either on the day or by the end of the series. What's significant about the success of WWTBAM? is that the format has survived or may even depend on the fact that nobody ever quite knows enough to claim the final prize.

To this viewer at least, it has seemed that the producers have attempted at various times some subtle social engineering. At a time when it was felt that the series needed a millionaire to maintain its momentum, there seemed to be a sudden influx of teachers, lecturers and graduates among the contestants. This could be easily done: the first-to-the-buzzer qualification question would merely need to be geared to literature or science rather than sport or popular culture. And yet, if such attempts were made, they had no effect. Even apparent brain-boxes would suddenly reveal an unexpected gap in their knowledge.

This probably does reflect the shift in British education from formal recall to self-expression and practical disciplines. But part of the problem is simply the difference between, say, taking an American history exam in 1900 and sitting one this year. There's simply much more of the stuff now and less consensus over what matters.

But the positive news to be taken from TV's failure to find a seven-figure brain - and from the Guardian/ICM poll - is that, while knowledge was once taken as a social signifier, ignorance is now entirely classless. And, if they want to make sure that the Chris Tarrant million is never won, they know which question to hold in reserve: who is Andrew Motion?

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