ON a damp Sunday afternoon shoppers at Tesco, a supermarket, in south London seem uninterested in discussing genetically modified (GM) food. Several shrug at the idea, or profess ignorance. One insists she only buys organic stuff, but only if it is not too expensive. Their apparent indifference is striking.

Britain was once at the forefront of an anti-GM movement. In the late 1990s boiler-suit clad protesters stomped through fields; marches or sit-ins organised by green NGOs drew large anxious crowds. The public broadly supported them: in 2003 some 42% felt that the risks of GM outweighed the benefits, according to Ipsos MORI, a pollster. Only 20% thought that the benefits were bigger than the risks; the rest were unsure or indifferent. Most Europeans were similarly spooked. Such weight of public opinion ensured that GM crops were not grown commercially in most of Europe, including Britain.

By 2011, however, British opinions had shifted: only 27% thought GM food was risky, while 34% thought the benefits were far greater. Compared with France and Germany, where anti-GM feeling is still strong, Brits now seem more relaxed.

Partly this is a consequence of the recession. Between 2008 and 2013 sales of organic products—which are bought by greener types and the health-conscious—slumped by 15%, partly as supermarkets lined shelves with cheaper own-brand products instead. And nearly all big supermarkets now stock poultry and meat which have been fed on GM animal feed. Non-GM soya used to feed chickens and other animals is becoming more expensive and harder to source, says Daniel Crossley of the Food Ethics Council, a green charity.

Some anti-GM groups still exist. GM Freeze, for example, is a campaign group mostly run by two full-time staff who work from home. But as the threat of GM crops being sown in Britain subsided, most green groups started to fret about other things. There are fewer opportunities to demonstrate and do “actions”, admits Clare Oxborrow of Friends of the Earth, a charity. Around 150 people gathered to protest against a GM wheat experiment at the Rothamsted Institute in 2012. But this year when another experiment took place on camelina, a less well-known oil seed crop, no one turned up.

Perhaps the biggest reason views are changing is that scientists have become better at explaining the topic in public, suggests Sir Mark Walport, the chief scientific adviser to the government. Organisations such as the Science Media Centre (SMC), which was set up in 2002 on the back of the furore over GM, ensure journalists are better briefed. Plant scientists were particularly bewildered when called up to talk on the radio or television, says Fiona Fox, who runs the SMC, as the media had previously shown little interest in them. Now many are far more confident when being grilled.

Many politicians are keener, too. Some, such as Owen Paterson, the Conservative former environment secretary, have always favoured the idea of GM crops and railed against the amorphous environmental movement that he calls the “green blob”. Others, such as David Willetts, a former minister for science, have been keen to boost funds for the “agri-tech” industry.

The shifting attitudes in Britain are not being mirrored across Europe, however. On November 13th Anne Glover, the British chief scientific adviser to the European Commission, was sacked, in part, it was alleged, because of a campaign by green groups over her support for GM. In order to import or cultivate GM crops in Britain, approval from the commission is still needed. So while many Brits seem happier with the idea of GM foods, growing them is still some way off.