When the sun went down, life slowed down. That’s how it used to be.

When illumination after dark meant a smoky oil lamp or a dangerously dripping tallow candle, there were limitations on activities. Forget all those Hollywood movies. The rich might have had enough candle-power (and servants) to light up a ball room or a banquet hall. But for common, everyday people, the light of one or two lamps and the glow from a small cooking fire was all that brightened the night. Even the faintest light was far more welcoming than being outside in the darkness.

Last week a self-proclaimed, self-deluded “eco-activist” decided to cut the power lines in our island community as a form of social protest. At 10 p.m. on Saturday night, just as the wind whipped up and the water rained down, the lights went …