In its umpteenth article on the problems besetting rural voters since the presidential election, the New York Times this weekend once again posed what seems to be becoming the perennial question: Can rural America be saved? The answer, which the Times and many others seem unable or unwilling to consider, is ‘no, it cannot be.’ But that doesn’t mean that rural Americans cannot be. There is, however, one caveat: They have to move elsewhere.

“For the past quarter century, the story of these places has been one of relentless economic decline,” the article points out. A quarter century? Shouldn’t those who live there have started to think about the problem by now, and address it? The best way of dealing with the problem of living in a place that is economically stagnant is to move to one that isn’t. Nonetheless, too many continue to seek solutions that have been tried and proven fruitless, faux solutions that illustrates what many see as a definition of insanity – trying to do the same thing that has failed over and over again, expecting a different result.

The article describes the problems facing rural America: Shrinking population, higher average age, lower productivity, lower incomes, rising crime and growing opioid abuse. But rather than discuss the obvious solution – move to where they are no longer threats – the article, like many politicians and social scientists, bathes itself in the glories of an increasingly distant past. “Rural communities once captured a greater share of the nation’s prosperity ... During the economic recovery of 1992 to 1996, 135,000 new businesses were started in small counties ... Employment in small counties shot up by 2.5 million.”

And at one time, Rome was the world’s leading empire. Past is past. By last year, the article points out, counties with fewer than 100,000 people lost 17,500 businesses since the financial crisis, while counties with more than one million residents added 99,000. The largest metropolitan areas have almost 10 percent more jobs, while rural areas have fewer than before.

It seems like there is an obvious lesson to be learned here. But it is one that the vast majority of rural Americans do not want to hear, much less follow. The article sums up the problem neatly: “No one – not experts or policymakers or people in these communities – knows quite how to pick rural America up.” Apparently, what too few have considered is that maybe it is time to pack rural America up, or at least time for many who live there to go elsewhere in search of a better job and more satisfying life.

Some, such as analysts at the Brookings Institution, have worked diligently to develop solutions to the economic problems that plague rural America – such as IT training and other educational initiatives, regulatory changes to boost lending to small businesses, and incentives to boost broadband. But each of these solutions bear a problem: Either they have been proven not to work, or there is little convincing evidence that they will. Brookings senior fellow William Galston has acknowledged: “I don’t know if any of these ideas are going to work. But it is worth making the effort.”

But is it? One is reminded of the story of a God-fearing resident of a flood zone, in the midst of the worst hurricane of his life. Perched on top of his rooftop and facing rising waters, he seemed to have little chance to survive. But then a rowboat came by, and the police officer in it offered him a ride. “Nope,” he said. “The good lord put me here, and he will not let me down.” Then a motor boat came by, and offered him a ride. But the beleaguered man gave the same response. Then a helicopter circled just above the roof, and the pilot lowered a ladder and called on the man to hop aboard to safety. “Nope,” he repeated. “The good Lord will save me.” Soon he was overrun by the rising waters, and found himself in heaven, face to face with his maker. The man unloaded himself of his frustration: “Why did you forsake me,” he demanded to know. God responded: “Hey, I sent two boats and a helicopter.”

Like the man on the roof, many choose to remain in rural and rust belt America rather than grasp the lifeline offered by metropolitan regions. But isn’t that their choice – and shouldn’t they be prepared to bear the economic, social and cultural consequences? Many fear losing the increasingly frail and community social support networks available to them where they were born and live: The brother-in-law who owns a pick-up truck, the grandmother who looks after the kids when needed, or the poorly paid job that at least provides some kind of health insurance. Try telling that to today’s immigrants, who arrive – legally or illegally – with few skills, in a country in which the predominant language is one they do not speak or understand. Try telling that to people whose grandparents crossed an ocean to land in a large North American city with little money, even less command of the English language, no immediate job prospects, and few relatives or friends to help them adjust.

The residents of declining rust belt towns have a solution staring them in the face. Americans live in the wealthiest common market in the world, and have access to every square inch of it, including the many jobs that are available in robust regions. While one can see short-term challenges, one can also see an obvious long-term solution. For those who argue that we must not abandon declining rural counties or rust belt towns – because we might run out of them? – consider the fate of places like Detroit, Buffalo, Newark and Youngstown. Once dynamic cities, they have become good places to come from rather than live in; formerly prosperous and growing, cities and towns like this offer many no more a bus ride or a highway out of a declining town. But that may be enough. That is the best available option, one that offers what should be sufficient salvation for anyone. At one time, Americans were ruthless in their entrepreneurship, leaving decrepit and declining towns to seek a better life in a new and growing city. Today, too many expect opportunities to come their way – rather than seek them out where they are plentiful.

Many complain or worry about the urban bubble (often referred to as the bi-coastal elite) that prevents city residents from seeing, much less understanding, the problems of rural America. In fact, aren’t there two bubbles? The second bubble is made up of rural areas, rust belt cities and outer-ring suburbs. But there are important differences between these two bubbles: The urban bubble is expanding, home to an increasing number and diverse conglomeration of people. The rural bubble, on the other hand, is becoming smaller all of the time. Everyone who lives there seems to look the same, and draw from the same shrinking pool of experience, expertise and scale that is limited in any small town or rusting city.

Residents of economically backward areas appear in many ways to be a cargo cult, waiting for flying machines to appear in the sky and drop goods in their laps. Maybe it is time to stop giving those in the cargo cult reason to believe their salvation will come where they happen to live now, and an understanding that no one is going to be dropping cargo in their community any time soon. Maybe it is time for them to do what many all over the world have been doing for generations – abandon places that offer little opportunity and set off for places that offer a great deal of it.