Introducing Marks

In my previous two posts (here and here), I described how and why programming languages can’t talk about many issues that affect programmers–important issues like product requirements, design constraints, intellectual property, and more. I also inventoried the mechanisms that extend the semantics of languages today, and explored why those mechanisms have limited value. If you haven’t read those posts, please do; what I say next won’t make a lot of sense without that foundation.

In the intent programming language that I’m creating, the solution to this problem is called “marks” (a name which alludes to linguistic markedness). Marks play a role somewhat analogous to adjectives and adverbs in human language; they are crucial enrichers. They resemble decorators or annotations in other languages, though their power is much, much greater.

Without further ado, let me provide a blueprint for this bridge across the semantic gap that I’ve been lamenting–the design guidelines for “marks.” Then I’m going to show you an example of how easy it could be to use marks, and how much power they give you.

image credit: Curious Expeditions (Flickr)


  1. Code and its compiler(s) must have a compile-time API specified by the language.
    It’s not okay if Clang generates one type of AST, GCC a second, and MSVC a third; all compilers that support the language must expose a spec-compatible, programmable API for all language constructs. For example, I need to be able to find out what parameters and local variables are declared in a function, and what their data types and other characteristics are. This is similar to what reflection offers, but reflection doesn’t help at all, because I need this before run-time. (Kudos to D, which provides compile-time reflection very similar to what I’m describing…) As I mentioned in my post about making a codebase const-correct, the lack of this feature is really a serious design flaw. Why should code, of all things programmers deal with, be impossible to code against?

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Lacunas Everywhere

I’m told that in Czech, the word “prozvonit” means “to call a mobile phone and let it ring once so that the other person will call back, saving the first caller money.”

Image credit: AstridWestvang (Flickr)

How would you translate this word to someone in New Guinea who has never experienced electricity, let alone a telephone or a bill from Verizon? You wouldn’t. This is an example of a “lacuna“–a translation problem caused by semantic gaps in a target language. Lacunas occur in programming languages. You might know a few; maybe you wish C++ had python-style generators–or that Java had Haskell’s notion of pure functions–or that C supported PHP-style string interpolation. But what if I told you that semantic misalignment between any pair of programming languages is just minor details? What if I claimed that all programming languages I’ve used have numerous, pernicious, and expensive semantic gaps? That we don’t see these gaps for the same reasons that a stone-age hunter-gatherer fails to notice his inability to discuss patterns of cell phone usage? Would you think I’m crazy? Continue reading