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ADVANCED ECONOMETRIC METHODS
A GUIDE TO ESTIMATION AND INFERENCE
FOR COMPLEX DYNAMIC MODELS
Francisco Blasques
2019
Jean-Pierre Urbain
Contents
Preface i
I Introduction 1
II Dynamic Models 39
3 Probability models 41
3.1 What is a probability model? . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
3.2 Why use probability models? . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
3.3 What is a DGP? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
3.4 Correct Specification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
3.5 Generality of linear models . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
3.6 Nonlinear dynamic models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
3.7 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
5
6 CONTENTS
4 Stochastic properties 77
4.1 Stationarity and Ergodicity (SE) . . . . . . . . . . 78
4.2 Fading memory and limited dependence . . . . . . 99
4.3 Bounded unconditional moments . . . . . . . . . . 113
4.4 Models with exogenous variables . . . . . . . . . . 118
4.5 Time-varying parameter models . . . . . . . . . . . 121
4.6 Multivariate Contractions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
4.7 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
V Appendix 335
A Random variables i
B Modes of Convergence ix
This book developed from the lecture notes of the graduate mas-
ters course ‘Advanced Econometrics’, that I have the pleasure of
teaching since 2014 at the VU University, in Amsterdam. The
text retains the informal classroom tone with which the lecture
notes were originally written. All chapters were written, first and
foremost, with my students in mind, so the text is addressed to
them. Let us begin...
1
Note that, according to this definition, a model being ‘complex’ depends
not only on the model itself, but also, on the type of estimator being used.
So it may sometimes be more convenient to think of complexity as referring
to a specific pairing of model and estimator.
i
ii PREFACE
xt = βxt−1 + εt .
You surely recall that, given the simple linear structure of this
model, it is easy to obtain an expression for the least squares
estimator of the parameter β. Indeed, you might even recall that
it takes the form PT
xt xt−1
β̂T = Pt=2
T
.
2
t=2 xt−1
Analyzing the properties of this estimator is easy when we assume
that the linear model is the true model (i.e. when we impose a
correct specification assumption). Indeed, if the model is well
specified, then we can substitute xt for βxt−1 + εt and thus re-
write the estimator β̂T as follows
PT
εt xt−1
β̂T = β + Pt=2
T
. (1)
2
t=2 xt−1
|{z}
true parameter | {z }
remainder term
In this course we will move away from the simple linear setting
and abandon the restrictive assumption of correct specification.
We will venture together into unknown territory! It will require
some effort, but it will pay off! Together, we will learn how
to analyze the properties of the many nonlinear models that
econometricians, statisticians and data scientists of all fields use
on a daily basis. We will see that we can analyze the properties
of estimators even if they do not have a tractable analytic
vi PREFACE
SCRIPTS
This book offers a library of scripts in MATLAB, Python and R. These
scripts are used in examples and practical exercises throughout the book.
The reader is encouraged to download the relevant scripts from the au-
thor’s webpage https://personal.vu.nl/f.blasques/.
EXERCISE SOLUTIONS
This book is accompanied by a solutions manual for a number of selected
exercises. The reader is encouraged to download the solutions manual
from the author’s webpage https://personal.vu.nl/f.blasques/.
Introduction
1
Chapter 1
yt = α + βxt + εt
3
4 CHAPTER 1. WHAT YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW!
You should also remember that when the error term εt satis-
fies the assumption that E(εt |xt ) = 0, then the linear regression
model is a model of the conditional expectation of yt given xt .
So under Assumption 1.1, the errors εt account for the fact that
the relation between yt and xt holds only “on average”. Under
Assumption 1.1, the linear regression model states essentially
that, on average, the dependent variable yt is linearly related
to the explanatory variable xt . Additionally, the exogeneity
assumption ensures that the parameter β measures the expected
change in yt given a unit change in xt , and the parameter α
measures the expected value of yt when xt = 0.
we conclude that the OLS estimator β̂T has the following expres-
sion
T PT
X yt xt
−2 (yt − β̂T xt )xt = 0 ⇔ β̂T = Pt=1
T
. (1.1)
2
t=1 t=1 xt
Figure 1.2: Different OLS estimates (β̂, α̂) of the unknown parameters α and
β, obtained from different samples of data generated by the same true model with
α = 0 and β = 1.
2
The condition Ex2t > 0 is needed to ensure that the fraction is continuous
p
and we obtain 1 PT1 x2 → Ex1 2 .
T t=1 t t
1.4. LEAST SQUARES: NORMALITY 11
yt = βxt + εt ∀ t ∈ N.
We can now use the central limit theorem to obtain the asymp-
totic normality of our OLS estimator β̂T when the linear regres-
sion model is correctly specified. First
√ we use the correct speci-
fication Assumption 1.2 to rewrite T (β̂ − β) as
PT PT
√ √ √
t=1 xt εt x t εt
T (β̂T − β) = T β + PT − β = T Pt=1 T
2 2
t=1 xt t=1 xt
√ √ 1 Tt=1 xt εt
P
T
T (β̂T − β) = T 1 PT
2
T t=1 xt
√
T T1 Tt=1 xt εt − E(xt εt )
P
= 1 PT
.
2
T t=1 xt
Note that we were allowed to subtract the term E(xt εt ) in the last
equality above, because we have already seen that Assumption
1.1 implies that E(xt εt ) = 0. Finally, we can apply a central
limit theorem to the numerator and a law of large numbers to
the denominator as long as E|xt εt | < ∞.
T
1X 2 p
xt → E(x2t ) as T → ∞.
T
t=1
14 CHAPTER 1. WHAT YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW!
Recall that the product xt εt has mean zero, and hence that
Var(xt εt ) = E(xt εt )2 . Now, under Assumption 1.5 we have that
Var(xt εt ) = Ex2t Eε2t = σε2 Ex2t , and hence, we obtain the following
simplification
PT
√1
√ t=1 xt εt
−1
T d
→ N 0 , σε2 E(x2t )
T (β̂T − β) = 1 PT .
2
T t=1 xt
4
The theorem proven by the famous econometrician Eugene Slutsky in 1925
d p d
states that if zt → z and wt → w, then zt · wt → z · w.
1.4. LEAST SQUARES: NORMALITY 15
yt = βxt + εt ∀ t ∈ N.
√ T
approx
1 X 2 −1
T (β̂T − β) ∼ N 0 , σε2 xt .
T
t=1
xt = φxt−1 + εt ∀t∈Z
Figure 1.3: Single path [above] shows time-varying conditional mean. Multiple
paths [below] show invariance of the distribution (mean and variance are clearly
constant over time).
You also learned that the linear Gaussian AR(1) model is strictly
stationary as long as |φ| < 1. In other words, the Gaussian AR(1)
is stationary as long as it does not exhibit ‘too much’ temporal
dependence.
xt = φxt−1 + εt ∀t∈Z
with |φ| < 1 and innovations {εt }t∈Z that are NID(0, σε2 ).
Then {xt }t∈Z is strictly stationary.
This means that the density f (xt |xt−1 , ...; θ) is given by the well
known formula
f (xt |xt−1 , ...x1 ; θ) = f (xt |xt−1 ; θ)
1 h (x − φx )2 i
t t−1
= p exp − .
2πσε2 2σε2
it follows that
PT
xt xt−1
φ̂T = Pt=2
T
.
x 2
t=2 t−1
xt = φxt−1 + εt ∀t∈Z
with innovations that satisfy {εt }t∈Z ∼ NID(0, σε2 ) with 0 <
p
σε2 < ∞ Then, φ̂T → φ as T → ∞.
E|xt−1 εt | < ∞ and E|xt |2 < ∞ as long as σε2 < ∞. Hence the
conditions required by Theorem 1.6Pto apply the law P of large
numbers to the sample averages T1 xt−1 εt and T1 x2t−1 are
easily satisfied!
T
1X 2 p
and xt−1 → E(x2t−1 ) as T → ∞.
T
t=2
The results obtained in Chapter 1 for the least squares and max-
imum likelihood estimators were only possible because the mod-
els we considered were sufficiently simple and assumed to be cor-
rectly specified. If we consider more general nonlinear models and
allow for the possibility of model mis-specification, then things
become more complicated. In particular, it is important to note
that:
27
28 CHAPTER 2. THE CHALLENGES AHEAD...
yt = αxβt + εt
Can you solve this equation for β̂T ? It will be very difficult, and
many times even impossible! In the linear regression setting that
1
Note that the AK production function with multiplicative errors, which is given
by
yt = αxβ
t εt
can be re-written in linear form by taking logs since one obtains
log yt = a + b log xt + ut
2 10
0 0
−2 −10
−4 −20
−10 0 10 −10 0 10
20 20
0 0
−20 −20
−10 0 10 −10 0 10
Figure 2.1: Scatter plots with linear and nonlinear relations between variables
This model is more general than the linear AR(1) model consid-
ered in Chapter 2 because it ‘contains’ the linear AR(1) model
as a special case. In particular, for α = 0 and β = 0 we obtain
xt = φxt−1 + εt ∀ t ∈ Z.
xt = g(xt−1 ; β) + εt ∀t∈Z
yt = σt εt , εt ∼ N (0, 1) ,
2
σt+1 = ω + αyt2 + βσt2 ∀ t ∈ Z.
For which values of ω, α and β is {yt }t∈Z a strictly stationary
time-series? We know that {yt }t∈Z has a time-varying conditional
variance. However, its unconditional variance may be invariant
over time, and hence, {yt }t∈Z may be strictly stationary for ap-
propriate values of ω, α and β. Again, unfolding this process and
obtaining an expression for xt as a function of past innovations
is not easy, and this spells trouble for us. Figure 2.3 suggests
that the GARCH model might indeed generate strictly station-
ary time-series.
TO G. CRUIKSHANK,
G
eorge Cruikshank was an enthusiast in all things to which he
gave his mind. He did nothing in a halfhearted way. Whether
preparing to address a great Exeter Hall audience on the evils
of drunkenness, or marching at the head of his riflemen, or
arraying himself in a table-cover to enact the part of Lord Bateman;
in small things as in great, he was ever at fever-heat. He would have
made a good actor, had he not been incapable of a moment’s
repose; he would have been an admirable Temperance advocate,
had it been in him to give himself pause in order to think over the
heads of his discourse; he would have been a good volunteer officer,
had it been possible for him to sit quiet in his saddle. But he seemed
to be troubled with an excess of life. Life at fever-heat is the
dominant characteristic of all his work. The “quiet spaces” in his
etchings are rare.
Having been converted by his own “Bottle” to total abstinence
from fermented liquors, he could be nothing less than an earnest
and a vehement worker in the cause. He threw himself heart and
soul into it; and during the thirty remaining years of his life his zeal
never slackened, and he had never made sacrifices enough in it. His
impulsive advocacy often took ludicrous forms. He sometimes
offended people by his denunciations of even the most moderate
drinkers, but he never made an enemy by his gaucherie or his
downright phrases imported into quiet circles, because the parity of
his motive and the well-known impetuosity of his nature excused
him. I can remember, in the first year of his total abstinence,
meeting him at a ball given in Fitzroy Square, by Mr. Joshua
Mayhew, the father of Horace and the Brothers Mayhew. He danced
and was light-hearted with the youngest; but when at supper the
wine began to circulate, he stole round to the head of the table,
and, laying his hand upon the shoulder of the venerable host (who
was a very haughty and quick-tempered old gentleman), said, in a
deep, warning voice, “Sir, you are a dangerous man.” Mr. Mayhew
had a glass of wine in his hand, and was about to drink a toast to
the health of one of his sons, when Cruikshank’s hand fell upon his
shoulder. “I look upon every wine-drinker,” Cruikshank added firmly,
“as a dangerous man, sir.” The company, knowing the hot temper of
their host, expected an explosion of rage; but it was staunched by
Horace Mayhew, who burst into a hearty laugh, and told his father to
go on, for “it was only dear old George.”
In the same way, when dining at the Mansion House, Cruikshank,
at the passing of the loving-cup, would go through an extraordinary
pantomime before all the company, expressive of his horror of strong
drinks. He would shake his hand angrily at the Lord Mayor, and raise
his arms with horror while his neighbour quaffed of the cup. The
company humoured the eccentric old gentleman; for, in their hearts,
they could not but respect his downright earnestness. He lost no
opportunity. Returning home at the head of his volunteer corps, he
showed his jaded officers, who had freely taken beer, how fresh he
was—on two oranges.
“Ah! you may laugh,” he would say, when his friends bantered him
about his aggressive protests in society; “you may laugh, but I can
tell you this——the presence of the old jackdaw checked the
drinking, if didn’t stop it, and I am very grateful to feel sure of that.”
* As Mr. Sala has observed, “the veteran sticks bravely to his text.”
And well he might, for his temperance renewed his youth. “He
neither smoked tobacco nor drank fermented liquors in his old age;
but he was a hearty eater, an early riser, and a vigorous walker and
his reward was that which, according to Gray, is only felt by boys at
school—a perpetual ‘sunshine of the breast.’” He was fond of
showing this vigour renewed by temperance, at every possible
opportunity; for he very wisely regarded it as his most forcible
argument. It enabled him, in his old age, to capture a burglar on his
own premises. The story runs that when he was following the
burglar to the station, with the police, he drew him under a lamp,
and told him that he could see drink had brought him to this—
adding that he himself drank nothing but water. “I wish I’d ha’
known that,” said the ruffian, “I’d ha’ broken your head for you.”
Cruikshank delighted to show an audience how he could hold a
tumbler full of water steady upon the palm of his outstretched hand.
At eighty, he was seen in costume at a fancy dress ball at Willis’s
Rooms, joining heartily in the dance, and letting everybody know
that it was “water that did it.”
M
r. Wedmore, in his critical sketch of Cruikshank, has
described in a few pregnant sentences, how in his later days
the public fell away from the great humourist and subtle
observer:—
“As time went on apace, neither the passage of time itself, nor the
hard work which crowded the days of his maturity in art, nor the
comparative neglect of the later years, when Cruikshank, no longer
quite in the movement of the day, was solaced by visits in the
Hampstead Road, chiefly of a very few who were collectors of his
work, or of some stray humourist still faithful and confident in the
achievement of so many years ago. As time went on, Cruikshank
wore well and slowly, so that it was truly said of him that he looked
as if he had once been very old and then had forgotten it. Employed
no longer in sketching and satirising the society of which he was
hardly any more a part, he betook himself, a good deal by choice, to
work more distinctly ambitious than any he had attempted when his
hand was really the strongest and his brain the most fertile. He
furnished the design for a monument to King Robert the Bruce. He
painted in oils, not only this or that moral lesson, but a tale of
heroism in humble life. No doubt the absence of the knowledge of
academical draughtsmanship told against him not less in 1871 than
it would have done half a century before, and no doubt the absence
of any capacity for the subtle modulations of colour—nay, the
absence even of sensitiveness to these—made his painting in oil a
failure when judged by the side even of quite every-day work by
every-day artists. Thus it was that no fresh honours came to him
when he was still eager for them. The popularity of the great days
was a little forgotten by the public in the presence of the failure of
the most recent. And then again, advertised poverty is never a
helpful thing. We worship merit a little, but success more, and
success must have its stamp. The public of Cruikshank narrowed. Of
course critics and journalists—the men whose business it is to keep
in memory some work that the chance public praises one day and
forgets the next—knew that Cruikshank was great, and how he had
been great, and having in more than one notable instance said so
faithfully during his old age, said so again last month, when he died.
And of course, again, so much of his work having become rare,
collectors of it had arisen—curious and anxious seekers, to whose
interest we shall owe the preservation of many of his early and many
even of his riper things. For them, when Cruikshank’s work was
pretty well accomplished, and ‘finis’ seemed about to be written to
that immense volume of production, Mr. G. W. Reid engaged on a
task of care—the great catalogue raisonné in which, with here and
there errors not easily avoided, he has chronicled well-nigh five
thousand designs: ‘the smiling offspring,’ as Thackeray so admirably
said of them, ‘the smiling offspring of painful labour.’ But in the main
Cruikshank was forgotten, and the weekly smiles—feint though now
and again they needs must be, and of indulgence rather than
commendation—which are given by the English public to the efforts
of our youngest English humour, a little trivial and slight, had ceased
to be bestowed on that larger and more massive humourist who
lingered from the past he was part of.”
This is very true, and is a very sad story skilfully told. Think what
would have become of the neglected or forgotten humourist, if,
when the mere laughing public had turned away from him to Leech
and Doyle, and Tenniel and Du Maurier, he had not been fired with
the ardour of an apostle in the cause he had taken up. His Almanac
had failed for lack of readers; and David Bogue had thrown up
Cruikshank’s Magazine, after the second number—convinced that the
artist had outlived his public. His ambition to become a painter was
mercifully renewed, with the renewal of his health and mind,
through temperance. Full of vigour he used to say, “A painter should
paint from his shoulder, sir.” He became almost wholly a serious man
in his work, and appealed to a public in a new capacity. He resolved,
stimulated by the success of “The Bottle,” to execute a great picture
that should remain behind him, a monument of his genius, and an
immortal Temperance lesson.
In the early ardour of his second youth he had braced himself to
supply, so far as he might, albeit he had reached his sixtieth year,
the deficiency in his art education, by working as a student at the
Royal Academy. He had, he believed, all his powers unimpaired; why
then should he not yet obtain the academical knowledge, of which
he had been deprived, as he had said bitterly, through the
improvident habits of his whisky-drinking father. Mr. Charles
Landseer says: “He entered as student at the Royal Academy, during
my keepership, April 22nd, 1853; but made very few drawings in the
Antique, and never got into the Life. He was placed upon the Turner
Fund in 1866—£50 per annum. I have heard that he made an
application to Fuseli for admission to the R.A., and was informed that
the school was too full, but that he might go and draw there if he
could find a place.” *
The grace and spirit with which the artist could treat fairy or elfin
life may be seen in scores of his earlier works. Look at this “Fairy
Revenge,” from “Scott’s Demonology,” drawn in 1833.
The touch of the etcher remained. He was hard and crude. The
first painting he exhibited was “Bruce attacked by Assassins”—the
Bruce upon a burlesque horse smothered in drapery! It was
exhibited at the Royal Academy. His next picture was “Moses
dressing for the Fair”—a subject more within his power; but it was
coarse, inharmonious, and sketchy. The wonder was that Cruikshank
could not perceive that he was on the wrong road. So far, however,
was he from suspecting this, that he was constantly meditating great
historical subjects; and actually “got in” upon a spacious canvas the
Battle of Agincourt. He even began a scriptural subject, “Christ riding
into Jerusalem.” But the genius that could realize a street or fairy
mob * upon a surface no broader than the palm of the hand, could
not paint a battle-piece. Without his outline he was all abroad. The
sacred subject remained in the studio, with many other canvases, to
the end. It was his “Battle of a Gin Court,” in his “Sunday in London”
that showed the master. He admitted, when it was suggested to him,
that the “etching-point feeling” was always in his fingers, giving a
“living” sensation to the brush, and that he never could get rid of it.
His Falstaff tormented by the Fairies, was, on the whole, the painting
he completed with most thorough satisfaction to himself.
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