Especially in times of division and polarization, it’s important to remember that none of us can go it alone. The vitriol in America’s public discourse isn’t the only problem we have regarding how we relate to one another: We’re also about as lonely in this country as we’ve ever been.

Recently, I started thinking about loneliness after re-watching Steven Spielberg’s classic 1982 film “E.T. the Extra Terrestrial.” The idea of “E.T.” sprang from Spielberg’s own lonely childhood stemming from his parents’ divorce. To alleviate the absence he felt, he created an imaginary friend to help fill in as both a brother and a father figure. Years later, Spielberg found himself working on a remote film set, and he began reconnecting with the imaginary friend of his youth. Before long, the screenplay for “E.T.” was born, and as they say, the rest is history.

Both E.T. the alien and the movie’s 10-year-old protagonist Elliott fill a need for each other: E.T. is literally the only one of his kind on Earth, and Elliott is growing up without a father. The two develop a psychic bond, to the point where Elliott often says “we” when referring to E.T. When E.T. falls ill, so does Elliott—and it is Elliott’s love and devotion that brings the alien back to life.

“E.T.” is more than 40 years old now, but the parable about loneliness and finding meaningful connection is just as relevant, if not more so, today. The American Psychiatric Association reports that one in three Americans feels lonely at least once a week. Most people think technology can help us with our loneliness problem. But while technology can help us maintain connections (even E.T. wanted to “phone home!”), we often rely on it at the expense of forging real connections.

These days, alienation from family and friends is extremely common; some folks even encourage it. It’s easier than ever to eschew human contact if we wish to. For example, there’s increasingly a dearth of “third places”—the VFW hall, the corner bar—where we can informally meet and build genuine relationships.

But our desire to forge connections exists even in the absence of humans, and that’s where AI comes in. Could robots hold a key to alleviating loneliness and depression? Could Amazon’s Alexa or Apple’s Siri be my pal? Possibly—they can seem quite kind. (In the interests of “research,” I asked Alexa to pay me a compliment, and she said, “you’re so strong, the rock calls you the paper.” Thanks, Alexa!)

Does AI offer any benefits over making a connection with another human? The stakes are definitely lower: AI comes without judgment and rejection. I can be a jerk to Alexa and she won’t stop talking to me. Since AI isn’t sentient (and possibly never will be), it can fill whatever niche we’re looking to fill without the complications that would accompany a human relationship.

However, this is only an idealized version of what it is to have a relationship with another person—an imaginary friend not all that different from the one that inspired “E.T.” It doesn’t challenge or disagree with us.

As much as a docile, friendly presence may sound appealing, it’s no way to cure the loneliness problem. It’s not enough to simulate the trappings of connections without making the effort to forge actual connections. Otherwise, what you’re really looking for is someone (or, more correctly, something) to meet your own desires without accepting what others bring to the table.

In short, AI can’t be our very own E.T. An AI friend might seem kind and even clever and nonjudgmental, but it can’t take the place of the human (or, okay, alien) connection.

Jennifer Tiedemann is the executive editor of Discourse magazine at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, where a version of this commentary first appeared.