Chapter 11 Models and Uncertainty
Before I leave my house each morning, I need to decide whether to take an umbrella. So I check my phone to see whether it’s supposed to rain. Instead of giving me a direct yes or no answer, the weather app tells me the percent chance of rain for the day.
Why does the weather app give me a percentage? Because there’s uncertainty. Science has done a lot to help us understand the weather. And as our understanding of the weather improves, our predictions get better. But we still can’t predict rain perfectly.
Facing uncertainty is a common problem when we’re looking at data. Whether we’re trying to explain the weather, human behavior, or even plant growth, we can’t make perfect predictions because there are things we can’t fully explain with our current scientific knowledge.
In statistics, we have several tools that allow us to acknowledge uncertainty. This enables us to build models like the ones powering my weather app—models that give us a prediction that includes a description of how uncertain we are. Some days we are 100% sure it will rain, other days only 60%.
In order to build these models that acknowledge uncertainty, we need a way to talk about what we do know and what we don’t know. Let me give a very simple example of a model that accounts for uncertainty:
\begin{equation}
happiness = 3.0 + 2.3 \times income + \varepsilon\tag{11.0.1}
\end{equation}
This model attempts to explain one’s level of happiness based on their income. You might notice that it looks very similar to the regression equations we saw in Chapter 3. That’s because regression is one of the main tools used to estimate a model that includes uncertainty.
What does this model mean in practical terms? Well, there are no obvious units we can use to quantify the amount of happiness someone experiences, so the exact values of the numbers we see are not particularly meaningful. But the fact that there’s a positive number (2.3) that is being multiplied by income implies that as income gets bigger, happiness gets larger.
The key part of this equation that I want to focus on is the little Greek letter at the end of the equation: \(\varepsilon\text{.}\) This letter is called “epsilon,” and it is often used to represent what we call an error term (also sometimes called a disturbance term). The error term (\(\varepsilon\)) represents everything else besides income that affects happiness. By including an error term, we are acknowledging that we can’t perfectly predict one’s level of happiness based on their income. We think that knowing one’s income will help us predict their happiness, but we know there are other factors we won’t be able to measure or identify that will also affect happiness. Thus, if all we know about someone is their income, we will have uncertainty about their exact level of happiness. By including an error term (\(\varepsilon\)) in the model, we make clear that we only claim to have a partial understanding of happiness, not a complete one.
Think for a moment about how few topics we could study if we didn’t have the freedom to build models that include uncertainty. We’d only be able to build a model of a dependent variable after we had identified (and measured) all of the factors that affect that variable! We wouldn’t be able to build a model of rain since we don’t know all of the factors that affect the rain. We couldn’t build a model of voting behavior since we don’t know everything that affects how someone will vote. By including an error term in our model, we can build models even when our understanding of something is incomplete.
The first part of our model that appears on the right side of the equation (\(3.0 + 2.3 \times income\)) is sometimes described as the systematic part of our model. It’s what we would use to build a prediction of happiness if all we knew about someone was their income level. Suppose, for example, that someone has an income of 4 units (perhaps income is measured in tens of thousands of dollars of annual income, so a salary of $40,000 is coded as a 4). According to our model, that person’s happiness would be:
\begin{align*}
happiness \amp = 3.0 + 2.3 \times (4) + \varepsilon\\
happiness \amp = 12.2 + \varepsilon
\end{align*}
We, therefore, predict that someone with an income of 4 will have a happiness of 12.2, but we also acknowledge that their actual happiness will likely be a bit different from our prediction since our model indicates that their actual happiness will equal 12.2 plus the value of the error term (\(\varepsilon\)).
The error term describes something unknown, so we can’t measure it or directly observe it. But what we can do is talk about its characteristics using concepts from probability theory. Specifically, we’re going to describe the value of the error term as being randomly selected. You may have dealt with randomness in math classes before using examples such as coin flips, die rolls, or drawing cards from a 52-card deck. Just as the likelihood of different outcomes from parlor games can be described using probability, we’re going to use probability to describe different possible values for the error term of a statistical model.
