Possibly the greatest tension in the design of programming languages occurs when encountering a user program that doesn’t quite make sense. The two coherent schools of thought on the subject are
The platform should make its best effort to continue the computation—choose reasonable rules for resolving potential ambiguities, so as to avoid crashing the program until absolutely necessary.
The platform should be strictly safe—detect potential ambiguities as early as possible and force the programmer to clarify until crash-free execution can be guaranteed.
For example, what should a programming language do when the user writes a program that might attempt to add a number to a string? Haskell will give a type error when compiling the program, forcing the programmer to adjust their code (possibly by inserting an explicit conversion).1 Common Lisp will run the program, and raise an exception if the program actually does attempt to add a number to a string.2 Perl will parse the string as a number and proceed (some would say “blithely”).3
Which way is best? Disciples of the best effort school point out that such systems tend to be more robust, continuing to work (somehow) in unanticipated situations (including tolerating some bugs in their own programming). Disciples of the strictly safe school point out that such systems tend to have fewer mistakes and more predictable behavior. Which kinds of programs are easier to modify and to build upon? The debate fills volumes.
Let’s think about basic data types—algebraic data types in Haskell, versus records in various Lisp dialects. One major mental difference between Haskell and Lisp, that seems to trip up people learning their second of those, is that Haskell always requires explicit conversions between different algebraic data types, even if they look similar; whereas Lisp is perfectly happy to plug together any producer with any consumer, and as long as the producer only happens to make records of types the consumer can handle, everything will be fine. 4
There is an obvious cost to the Haskell way, which is needing to write code like
foo_to_bar :: Foo -> Bar foo_to_bar Foo1 = Bar1 foo_to_bar Foo2 = Bar2
and use it all over the place. This is tedious, but not particularly error-prone, because the type system helps you get it right.
On the other hand, there is a major benefit to the Haskell way: If all conversions and injections are explicit, then it is possible to statically determine what type everything should have, which quickly catches whole slews of common and irritating errors. (And also serves as compiler-checked documentation of program structure).
This benefit has a deep version, too: if in Haskell one tries to put a
Foo' into a container meant to hold only
Foo, one will quickly get an error message that points both to the guilty insertion and to the point in the code that requires it to be a container of
Foo. In Lisp, in contrast, the insertion will proceed unimpeded, and the runtime error message will point to the program fragment that expected the
Foo, implicitly blaming it for being unable to deal with the
Foo'. This leads to bugs that are difficult to track down, because the actual mistake occurred long before and far away from the time and place where it was detected.5
For a while I thought the above was the whole story, but on further reflection I see a deep advantage to the Lisp way, too. The advantage relates to programming in the large—composing compound systems from parts developed by independent organizations, which themselves are composed from parts developed by independent organizations.
Consider: you are writing some package that uses version 1 of some library, and the library exposes a very useful function. OK, fine, no problem. Package written, function called, everything works great. Now suppose after a little while, the author of the library releases version 2, which generalizes the original function by accepting a broader range of inputs. If this is happening in Lisp, your package can link against version 2 without modification—the necessary conversion from the constrained calling convention you are using to the more general one the function now accepts happens implicitly, so that your package will just work on a system that has version 2 installed.
On the other hand, in Haskell, the author probably had to change the type of the input you need to pass to the library function. So now you have to write that
foo_to_bar function and add a call to it in order to work with version 2 of the library. And doing so prevents you from working with version 1. Oops. This is a problem even if you wrote the package for your own personal use, but it turns into a real pain point if there are more users. Suppose someone wants to use your package, and also some other package that also uses the library under discussion. In Lisp, everything is fine: your package works with whatever version this third user has. In Haskell, either the package management system has to deal with multiple versions of the library coexisting, and with linking each package against the version it wants (which it doesn’t, though rumor has it that they are working to fix that), or you and the author of the other package have to agree on which version of the library you are supporting. The latter is practically impossible, because the obligation to agree was not even a choice either of you made—it was imposed on you by a third party. So it doesn’t happen, and the poor user cannot use your two packages together.
The Haskell afficionado in the audience will doubtless point out many ways the author of that library could have avoided having this problem. Yes, growth can be made smoother if one anticipates it. The point is that a strictly-safe style tends to increase coordination burdens, which in turn tends to impede unanticipated growth, when no one person controls the entire code base.
Of course, the situation I just described can happen in any programming environment; and does—so often that it has a name. A best-effort style of trying to make things work out when possible reduces the incidence of this problem, but doesn’t actually solve it. Does that reduction change the quality of programmers’ and library authors’ lives? Do library ecosystems form and grow differently on best-effort as opposed to strictly-safe platforms?
As of version 7.6, the Glasgow Haskell Compiler has the
-fdefer-type-errorsflag, which does allow the programmer to try to execute a program with such an inconsistency. However, that type error will cause a crash if the offending code path is entered, even if it would not have gone though with the dubious addition.↩
The programmer can define a handler for such conditions, which gives a variety of options for proceeding, including substituting some value for the result of the addition and continuing from there.↩
If the whole string doesn’t parse, Perl will take the longest prefix that does. If no prefix of the string is a number at all, Perl will interpret the empty prefix as denoting 0.↩
In ADT-language, one can say that Lisp records are product types, and describe Lisp as synthesizing sum types on the fly. The thing that’s interesting is that Lisp also supplies implicit (partial) conversions between (synthesized) sum types with factors of the same names.↩
The one exception to this rule among Lisps that I know of is the contract and blame system in Racket, which to my knowledge does let one write generic container data structures that can be equipped with use-site contracts restricting the things that can be added to them, and laying blame at both the producer and the consumer of an object if they disagree about the object’s invariants.↩