The essential core of functional programming is quite simple: build programs by composing functions.

In this context, “function” does not refer to a “computer science” function, that is, a hunk of machine code, but rather, a mathematical function:

Totality. A function must yield a value for every possible input. Determinism. A function must yield the same value for the same input. Purity. A function’s only effect must be the computation of its return value.

Together, these properties give you an unprecedented ability to reason about your code: call a function with any input, and you’ll always get a valid value, it will be the same value every time you call the function with that input, and the function won’t try to do anything else funky like launch a nuclear missile.

Such a tiny idea has a profoundly simplifying effect on large-scale software engineering, because it means there’s less your brain has to keep track of in order to understand the behavior of your program. In fact, you can understand the behavior of the program by understanding the behavior of its individual parts — without having to keep it all in your head at one time!

Now, function programming does not always have a reputation for being simple, but I think that’s because of several factors:

Unfamiliarity. Functional programming is quite different than the type of programming that most professionals are used to. Because it’s unfamiliar, it can seem difficult. It’s best to compare functional programming with the experience of learning to program for the first time (rather than the experience of, say, learning a new programming language that’s modestly different than one you already know). Jargon. There’s a lot of jargon in functional programming, such as “immutability”, “recursion”, “induction”, “hylomorphism”, “transducer”, “functor”, and the list goes on. These concepts are not necessarily hard, but they have scary-sounding names and having lots of experience programming the imperative way doesn’t help you understand any of the new terminology. Motivation. From my experience, people learn things more easily when they can clearly see how they can be useful to accomplishing the goals these people have. Yet, although the situation is improving as more and more people learn functional programming (and share their knowledge with others), there’s not much motivation of the core concepts in functional programming.

Some might add that “functional programming” is sometimes associated with advanced statically-typed functional programming. In these cases, people learning “functional programming” are really learning two things at once: functional programming, and an advanced type system (most imperative programming languages have relatively simple type systems).

However, one can program functionally with untyped programming languages, or program imperatively with more advanced type systems. So the two are not necessarily linked.

Many of us functional programmers would like to show people why we’re so excited about functional programming. Yet, most of the content that I write is not geared at the functionally-curious, or even beginner functional programmers. Rather, I write about what interests me, which tends to be more intermediate to advanced functional programming, intended to be useful to people who have been programming functionally for years.

So I’m trying an experiment: I’m going to demonstrate a few ideas in functional programming that help us build real-world programs. But I’m going to do it in a way that is hopefully somewhat aware of the above factors.

It’s a functional programming blog post for people who aren’t functional programmers. Or maybe for people who know a little but wish they understood more.

Hopefully you’ll find it useful — but more than useful, I hope you find it inspiring. Inspiring enough to invest the effort necessary to push forward your knowledge of functional programming, despite of how difficult it might seem.

Or who knows, maybe after this post, it’ll all seem easy!

Impractical FP

A canonical example of the power of functional programming is the following generic sort function:

def sort [ A: Ordering ]( as : List [ A ]) : List [ A ] = as match { case Nil => Nil case a :: as => val ( before , after ) = as partition ( _ < a ) sort ( before ) ++ ( a :: sort ( after )) } }

It’s a beautiful example because it demonstrates how functional programming can have a simplifying effect on how we reason about software.

After looking at the code, you can probably convince yourself of the following:

A sorted empty list is an empty list. A sorted non-empty list with a first element a and subsequent elements as is the concatenation of the sort of all those elements less than a , followed by the concatenation of a , followed by the concatenation of the sort of all those elements not less than a .

Every part of this function can be reasoned about independently. If we believe the pieces are correct, we can trust the correctness of the whole.

Moreover, this sort function, because it’s a function in the mathematical sense, is easy to test and reuse. We can send any list to the function and expect it will return the sort of the list. Further, we know that the function will always return the same output for the same input.

So our tests can be stated quite simply:

assert ( sort [ Int ]( Nil ) == Nil ) assert ( sort [ Int ]( 3 :: 2 :: 1 :: Nil ) == 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: Nil )

(In fact, they can be stated much more powerfully in functional programming, but that’s a topic for another post.)

While explaining the benefits of functional programming in this one case seem simple enough, it’s a big stretch to imagine if or how these benefits might scale as our example moves beyond a toy example.

In fact, the number one objection to functional programming is that it only works for toy examples, but fails utterly in “real-world” programming.

Let’s take the simplest real-world problem I can think of: a function that doesn’t return a value because it doesn’t succeed.

Totality

I’ve defined a function as total and deterministic. What happens if we drop the totality requirement?

Well, the function need not return anything. Practically speaking, this means the function either runs forever, or “escapes” the need to return a value by using some other mechanism supported by the host language — typically by “throwing” an exception.

Functions that never return because they run forever are clearly broken (runaway loop due to an edge condition, or similar), but what about exceptions?

In the days before exceptions, programmers just used return values to indicate the success or failure of a function. In C code, for example, we’d write long sequences of code that looked like this:

int parse_config ( config * cfg ) { FileHandle handle ; char * bytes ; handle = new_handle (); handle = file_open ( "config.cfg" ); if ( handle == NULL ) return - 1 ; char * bytes = file_read ( handle ); if ( bytes == NULL ) return - 2 ; ... return 0 ; }

In this world, the introduction of exception handling seemed almost magical. Programmers could avoid tangling error-handling concerns with application logic, and benefit from the short-circuiting behavior of exceptions.

The main problem with exceptions is that, in a language that supports them, you have no guarantee where they will occur. Which means they can occur everywhere. Which means that, over a sufficiently long period of time, they do occur virtually everywhere (even in Java, unchecked exceptions can be thrown anywhere and often contain “checked” exceptions inside them!).

As with nulls, a proliferation of exceptions leads to defensive and aggressive exception handling, even in cases where it doesn’t make sense, which leads to more bugs and bizarre edge cases.

Fortunately, we can easily achieve both totality and clean code, but it requires more machinery than older programming languages supported.

To develop this idea, let’s take a function which returns the first element of a list:

def head [ A ]( as : List [ A ]) : A = as . head

This function is not total. Depending on which list you pass the function, it may or may not return the first element of the list. If you pass it an empty list, the function will never return, but instead throw an exception.

To make this function a total function, we need only introduce a data structure that can model the concept of optionality — something that might or might not be there.

Let’s call this Maybe :

sealed trait Maybe [ A ] final case class There [ A ]( value : A ) extends Maybe [ A ] final case class NotThere [ A ]() extends Maybe [ A ]

With this data structure, we can turn the head pseudo-function into a real function:

def head [ A ]( as : List [ A ]) : Maybe [ A ] = as match { case Nil => NotThere [ A ]() case a :: _ => There [ A ]( a ) }

Now when we think about code that uses the function, we don’t have to consider the possibility the function won’t return. Because the function will always return. Since we don’t have to consider this possibility, our reasoning about code that uses the head function is simpler, containing fewer cases to analyze.

The Maybe data structure doesn’t provide the same power as exceptions, however. For one, it doesn’t have any information on the error, which is perhaps OK in the case of the head function (because we know what the error is), but isn’t going to work well for most other functions.

To solve this problem, we can introduce a new data structure, called Result , which models the concept of exceptionality:

sealed trait Result [ E , A ] final case class Error [ E , A ]( error : E ) extends Result [ E , A ] final case class Success [ E , A ]( value : A ) extends Result [ E , A ]

This type lets us make functions like file_open total functions:

def file_open ( path : String ) : Result [ FileError , FileHandle ] = ???

Now we have all the same information that exceptions provide us with. However, if we have lots of different operations to perform, and each of them returns a Result , then it looks like we would need a lot of boilerplate, reminiscent of the days before exceptions:

def parse_config : Result [ FileError , Config ] = { file_open ( "config.cfg" ) match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( handle ) => file_read ( handle ) match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( bytes ) => ??? } } }

We’ve made the functions file_open , file_read , and so on total, which simplifies our reasoning about them, but at the same time, we have introduced additional boilerplate, which makes the code harder to read.

To recapture the detangling and short-circuiting benefits of exceptions, we need to recognize the pattern in the above code. If you study the code for a few minutes, you should be able to see the following pattern:

doX match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Value ( x ) => doY ( x ) match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( y ) => doZ ( y ) match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( z ) => doW ( w ) match { ... } } } }

If you examine what the types of doY , doZ , and doW must be, you discover they accept the A of the Result[E, A] of the previous operation, and using this A , they produce a new Result[E, B] .

This suggests we can factor out the duplication by introducing a chain method:

def chain [ E , A , B ]( result : Result [ E , A ])( f : A => Result [ E , B ]) : Result [ E , B ] = result match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( a ) => f ( a ) }

Indeed, we can use such a chain method in our original parse_config method:

def parse_config : Result [ FileError , Config ] = { chain ( file_open ( "config.cfg" )) { handle => chain ( file_read ( handle )) { bytes => ??? } } }

This reduces the boilerplate to calling chain on every Result[E, A] . In doing this, we achieve the short-circuiting benefits of exceptions, and the error-handling logic is factored out into the chain method, so the application logic doesn’t need to concern itself with it.

If you use a structure like Result to model exceptional cases, eventually you’ll find yourself in need of a utility function that looks like this:

// Change the `A` in a `Result[E, A]` into a `B` by using the provided // function `f`: def change [ E , A , B ]( result : Result [ E , A ])( f : A => B ) : Result [ E , B ] = result match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( a ) => Success ( f ( a )) }

This is a map-like function (similar to mapping the elements of an array into a different type). If you like programming in an object-oriented style, you can make the functions chain and change methods on the Result class:

sealed trait Result [ E , A ] { def change [ B ]( f : A => B ) : Result [ E , B ] = this match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( a ) => Success ( f ( a )) } def chain [ B ]( f : A => Result [ E , B ]) : Result [ E , B ] = this match { case Error ( e ) => Error ( e ) case Success ( a ) => f ( a ) } } final case class Error [ E , A ]( error : E ) extends Result [ E , A ] final case class Success [ E , A ]( value : A ) extends Result [ E , A ]

This makes the code read a little better:

def parse_config : Result [ FileError , Config ] = { file_open ( "config.cfg" ). chain { handle => file_read ( handle ). chain { bytes => ??? } } }

Further, if you call the change and chain methods map and flatMap , respectively, then Scala provides some handy syntax that can further simplify the way the code looks:

def parse_config : Result [ FileError , Config ] = for { handle <- file_open ( "config.cfg" ) bytes <- file_read ( handle ) } yield ???

At this point, we have regained totality of our functions, but with the full benefits of exceptions (short-circuiting and untangled concerns).

All we needed was the chain function (AKA flatMap ) and the Result data structure. The rest falls into place naturally.

Note that the chain function accepts a function as a parameter. This parameter is supplied as an anonymous function (which captures arbitrary references in its context), which should help demonstrate why this technique never really emerged in C code. If C had first-class functions and garbage collection or reference counting, it’s quite probable this pattern would have emerged on its own, without any input from the functional programming community.

The remaining requirements for functions are determinism and purity. Let’s take a look at these requirements in the next section.

Determinism & Purity

Functions that aren’t deterministic or which do more than just compute a return value can be notoriously difficult to reason about.

For example, I have used libraries (and probably created some!), which perform IO inside a constructor:

class Logging { private OutputStream ostream ; public Logging ( File file ) { ostream = new FileOutputStream ( file ); } }

This constructor may throw exceptions, which is very unexpected!

As another example, the URL class in Java may perform a network connection if you place an instance of this class into a data structure (whoa!). This happens because the equals & hash code methods may trigger resolution of the address.

In addition to the unexpected nature of impure functions (who knows what they will do and when they will do it!), non-determinism makes testing and reasoning about the functions particularly difficult. You may be forced to mock code or reason about the external state that can affect the behavior of such a function.

Pure, deterministic functions don’t do anything dirty behind the scenes, and you can count on them to always return the same output for the same input, which means the code is easier to test and easier to understand.

But if you try to make all your functions total, deterministic, and pure, you’ll quickly hit into a wall when you try to perform any input/output or other effects —a wall that has convinced too many that functional programming is impractical for real-world software.

In fact, the wall has long since been shattered, but rather than go down those paths, let’s look at a simple example of IO and see if we can bootstrap a solution.

Console IO

Let’s say we are developing a console program, which needs to read input from the console, and write output to the console. Many useful problems can be solved with console programs, and if we can figure out how to make a console program deterministic and pure, we can generalize to other types of programs.

If you think about the problem for a while, you may come up with the following idea: instead of calling functions that aren’t deterministic or pure, we can build up a data structure that describes the console effects that comprise our program.

Suppose that ConsoleIO is a description of our program. To start with, we need a way to describe the effect of writing output to the console.

One approach might look like this:

sealed trait ConsoleIO final case class WriteLine ( line : String ) extends ConsoleIO

This approach is a bit too simple, because we can only build a program that writes a single line of text to the console:

def helloWorld : ConsoleIO = WriteLine ( "Hello World!" )

This is a total, deterministic, and pure function—however, it’s not that useful. At most it can describe a program that writes a single line of text to the console. The text can change, of course, even be fed in as a parameter to the function, but ultimately, the program will have just a single effect on the console.

Fortunately, it’s pretty easy to extend the structure to support multiple effects in sequence. Here’s one way:

sealed trait ConsoleIO final case class WriteLine ( line : String , then : ConsoleIO ) extends ConsoleIO

Using this approach, we can construct more complex descriptions of effectful programs, such as this example:

def infiniteHelloWorld : ConsoleIO = WriteLine ( "Hello World" , infiniteHelloWorld )

If we introduced a “thunk” to avoid blowing the stack during construction, this structure would describe a program that writes “Hello World” an infinite number of times to the console. Infinite programs like this aren’t that useful, but we can fix this problem by adding another term to ConsoleIO , one which allows program termination:

sealed trait ConsoleIO final case class WriteLine ( line : String , then : ConsoleIO ) extends ConsoleIO final case object End extends ConsoleIO

Now we can construct, for example, a description of a program that repeats the printing of a certain line of text a certain number of times:

def printTextNTimes ( text : String , n : Int ) : ConsoleIO = if ( n <= 0 ) End else WriteLine ( text , printTextNTimes ( text , n - 1 ))

This function is total, pure, and deterministic. Of course, it doesn’t actually print anything out to the console, but we’ll get to that soon enough.

Currently, we can only describe programs that write text to the console. It’s easy enough to extend this approach so we can read text from the console:

sealed trait ConsoleIO final case class WriteLine ( line : String , then : ConsoleIO ) extends ConsoleIO final case class ReadLine ( process : String => ConsoleIO ) extends ConsoleIO final case object End extends ConsoleIO

Notice how constructing a ReadLine value requires we supply a function that, given the line of input read from the console, returns another ConsoleIO , representing the rest of the effectful program.

We pass our function to ReadLine , and it’s a promise that at some point in the future, someone will give us a String (the line of input from the console) that we can use to return the “rest” of the program.

This structure is sufficiently powerful for us to describe interactive programs. For example, the following program asks you for your name, then prints out “Hello” followed by your name:

def socialProgram : ConsoleIO = WriteLine ( "Hello, what is your name?" , ReadLine ( name => WriteLine ( "Hello, " + name + "!" , End ) ) )

Remember this function is total, deterministic, and pure. One can imagine building very complex descriptions of effectul programs using this structure. In fact, any program that requires just console IO effects could be described with this structure!

Notice that any program described by ConsoleIO simply terminates at some point. These programs cannot return a value.

If we want “composable programs” that is, programs which produce things that other programs can depend on, then we’ll need to generalize the End term to accept some value of type A , which will necessitate we add a new type parameter A to ConsoleIO and thread it through the other terms.

The end result looks only slightly more complex:

sealed trait ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class WriteLine [ A ]( line : String , then : ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class ReadLine [ A ]( process : String => ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class EndWith [ A ]( value : A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ]

Now, ConsoleIO[A] is a description of a program that can read and write from the console, and terminate with a value of type A . This lets us build programs that produce values, which can be consumed by other programs.

Using this structure, we can build the “Hello, !" program of before, but this time, we can return the name of the user from the program:

val userNameProgram : ConsoleIO [ String ] = WriteLine ( "Hello, what is your name?" , ReadLine ( name => WriteLine ( "Hello, " + name + "!" , EndWith ( name )) ) )

The only capability we are missing from ConsoleIO is the ability to change the return value into some other type. For example, what if we want to build another console program which does not return the name of the user, but returns how many characters are in the name, by reusing userNameProgram ?

Currently, this is not possible. We need something more powerful to capture this notion. If we had a list, we would be able to “map” over its elements to change the result type. This is precisely the capability we need for ConsoleIO .

We can add such a map function directly to ConsoleIO :

sealed trait ConsoleIO [ A ] { def map [ B ]( f : A => B ) : ConsoleIO [ B ] = Map ( this , f ) } final case class WriteLine [ A ]( line : String , then : ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class ReadLine [ A ]( process : String => ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class EndWith [ A ]( value : A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class Map [ A0 , A ]( v : ConsoleIO [ A0 ], f : A0 => A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ]

Now given any ConsoleIO[A] , we can map it into a ConsoleIO[B] , given a function A => B . So we can write a new program, userNameLenProgram , which computes the number of characters in the user’s name, by writing the following snippet:

def userNameLenProgram : ConsoleIO [ Int ] = userNameProgram . map ( _ . length )

With the addition of map , the utility of EndWith has changed: we no longer need it to return a value from the program, because we can map whatever value we have to the return value. For example, if we have ConsoleIO[String] , we can map that to ConsoleIO[Int] by specifying a function String => Int .

However, EndWith could still be used to construct a “pure” program that performs no effects (which can be composed with other programs). So it’s still useful, although not for its original purpose. Therefore, we can rename it to Pure as follows:

sealed trait ConsoleIO [ A ] { def map [ B ]( f : A => B ) : ConsoleIO [ B ] = Map ( this , f ) } final case class WriteLine [ A ]( line : String , then : ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class ReadLine [ A ]( process : String => ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class Pure [ A ]( value : A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class Map [ A0 , A ]( v : ConsoleIO [ A0 ], f : A0 => A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ]

With these capabilities, we can build and reuse descriptions of console IO programs without any limitation or restrictions. All such descriptions are total, deterministic, and pure, and therefore benefit from the enhanced abilities of functional code: easier to understand, easier to test, easier to change safely, and easier to compose.

Ultimately, however, we have to convert a description of a program into an actual program—something that can actually perform effects (which means indeterminism and impurity). Typically, this process is called interpretation.

One can write a straightforward, if indeterministic and impure, interpreter for ConsoleIO[A] using code similar to the following:

def interpret [ A ]( program : ConsoleIO [ A ]) : A = program match { case WriteLine ( line , next ) => println ( line ); interpret ( next ) case ReadLine ( process ) => interpret ( process ( readLine ())) case Pure ( value ) => value case Map ( v , f ) => f ( interpret ( v )) }

There are better ways, but we shall not cover them there. For now, I think it’s interesting enough that we have both been able to describe effectful programs, which satisfy the requirements of totality, determinism, and purity, and which can be easily converted into real-world programs that perform effects.

Note that the conversion could (and should!) happen at the end of the program. In Haskell, it happens outside the main function, in Haskell’s runtime. However, for other languages that don’t have the same level of FP machinery baked in, you can always effectfully interpret your programs at the entry point of your program.

What this does is ensure you have maximum totality, determinism, and pureness throughout the vast majority of your program. At the edge, you have a nasty little layer that may be hard to reason about, but which faithfully translates the description of your program into executable effects on the substrate.

Extensibility

This approach works well in a world where the set of effects is fixed. In our cases so far, it has been console IO — reading and writing lines to and from a console. However, in real world programs, the set of effects under consideration is far more complex and we benefit from the ability to compose programs with different effects into a union of all their effects.

The first step is to recognize additional structure. In essence, we can break down our description of a console program into parts that produce values ( WriteLine ) or expect values ( ReadLine ). The rest of the program consists of pure boilerplate: either changing one program into another by mapping over the value it returns ( map ), or by chaining two programs together in such a fashion that the second depends on the value output by the first ( chain / flatMap ).

If this doesn’t make any sense, study the following types for a while:

sealed trait ConsoleIO [ A ] { def map [ B ]( f : A => B ) : ConsoleIO [ B ] = Map ( this , f ) def flatMap [ B ]( f : A => ConsoleIO [ B ]) : ConsoleIO [ B ] = Chain ( this , f ) } final case class WriteLine ( line : String ) extends ConsoleIO [ Unit ] final case class ReadLine () extends ConsoleIO [ String ] final case class Pure [ A ]( value : A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class Chain [ A0 , A ]( v : ConsoleIO [ A0 ], f : A0 => ConsoleIO [ A ]) extends ConsoleIO [ A ] final case class Map [ A0 , A ]( v : ConsoleIO [ A0 ], f : A0 => A ) extends ConsoleIO [ A ]

This is just a different, admittedly more confusing way to represent the same thing. Using this new structure, our interactive program becomes a little more complex to express:

def userNameProgram : ConsoleIO [ String ] = Chain [ Unit , String ]( WriteLine ( "What is your name?" ), _ => Chain [ String , String ]( ReadLine (), name => Chain [ Unit , String ]( WriteLine ( "Hello, " + name + "!" ), _ => Pure ( name ))))

In this model, a ConsoleIO has the sort of generic-looking Chain , Map , and Pure terms, which don’t really talk about the effects of our console program, and then it has two additional terms, which describe those effects: the ReadLine and WriteLine effect, which have been simplified under this model.

An interpreter for this model is only a bit more involved:

def interpret [ A ]( program : ConsoleIO [ A ]) : A = program match { case WriteLine ( line ) => println ( line ); (); case ReadLine () => readLine () case Pure ( value ) => value case Map ( v , f ) => f ( interpret ( v )) case Chain ( v , f ) => interpret ( f ( interpret ( v ))) }

This formulation may not seem all that different, but the key insight is that there are only 2 terms that describe effects. The rest is pure machinery. This machinery can be abstracted into another class and reused for all possible effect types. For example:

sealed trait Sequential [ F [ _ ] , A ] { def map [ B ]( f : A => B ) : Sequential [ F , B ] = Map [ F , A , B ]( this , f ) def flatMap [ B ]( f : A => Sequential [ F , B ]) : Sequential [ F , B ] = Chain [ F , A , B ]( this , f ) } final case class Effect [ F [ _ ] , A ]( fa : F [ A ]) extends Sequential [ F , A ] final case class Pure [ F [ _ ] , A ]( value : A ) extends Sequential [ F , A ] final case class Chain [ F [ _ ] , A0 , A ]( v : Sequential [ F , A0 ], f : A0 => Sequential [ F , A ]) extends Sequential [ F , A ] final case class Map [ F [ _ ] , A0 , A ]( v : Sequential [ F , A0 ], f : A0 => A ) extends Sequential [ F , A ] sealed trait ConsoleF [ A ] final case class WriteLine ( line : String ) extends ConsoleF [ Unit ] final case class ReadLine () extends ConsoleF [ String ] type ConsoleIO [ A ] = Sequential [ ConsoleF , A ]

The Sequential class doesn’t directly reference ConsoleIO , so it can be reused for may different effect types.

This allows us to cleanly separate effects from computational machinery. The new version of the hello world program is below:

def userNameProgram : ConsoleIO [ String ] = Chain [ ConsoleF , Unit , String ]( Effect [ ConsoleF , Unit ]( WriteLine ( "What is your name?" )), _ => Chain [ ConsoleF , String , String ]( Effect [ ConsoleF , String ]( ReadLine ()), name => Chain [ ConsoleF , Unit , String ]( Effect [ ConsoleF , Unit ]( WriteLine ( "Hello, " + name + "!" )), _ => Pure ( name ))))

If we take advantage of Scala’s for notation, and add a single implicit class to make it easier to wrap the effects inside the Effect constructor, we end up with the following simplification:

def userNameProgram : ConsoleIO [ String ] = for { _ <- WriteLine ( "What is your name?" ). effect name <- ReadLine (). effect _ <- WriteLine ( "Hello, " + name + "!" ). effect } yield name

This approach can be simplified even further — for example, adding helper functions for all the terms (such as writeLine , readLine , and so forth). Such helpers make the program even simpler:

def userNameProgram : ConsoleIO [ String ] = for { _ <- writeLine ( "What is your name?" ) name <- readLine () _ <- writeLine ( "Hello, " + name + "!" ) } yield name

There’s no major difference between this and an imperative program. The structure is roughly the same, and the syntax differs only a little. In our case, however, we’ve built a description of a program, which is total, deterministic, and pure, but which itself has no effects on the outside world (aside from utilizing memory and CPU to compute the structure).

Moreover, with this clean separation, the actual set of effects can be extended, too, which means we can take two programs with different effects, and combine them together into a program which has the effects of both.

Do to this, all you need is some sort of “EitherOr” term that can say it’s one effect (console IO) or another (file IO):

sealed trait EitherOr [ F [ _ ] , G [ _ ] , A ] final case class IsLeft [ F [ _ ] , G [ _ ] , A ]( left : F [ A ]) extends EitherOr [ F , G , A ] final case class IsRight [ F [ _ ] , G [ _ ] , A ]( right : G [ A ]) extends EitherOr [ F , G , A ] type CompositeProgram [ A ] = Sequential [ EitherOr [ ConsoleIO , FileIO , ? ] , A ]

Interpreters can be written on this structure quite simply, and can reuse other interpreters for the individual effect types (console versus file).

While we’ve developed it from first principles and without any jargon, this abstraction that you see is actually the legendary “Free monad”, which strikes terror into unsuspecting Scala developers everywhere!

That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Let’s take a look at a few perks of this abstraction before we wrap up the tour.

Perks of Pure

A common reaction to this sort of encoding of effects is, “What’s the point?”

There are a few really practical benefits that come out of this style of describing effectful programs:

The types of your program describe exactly what it’s capable of doing. Reasoning about the code becomes tremendously simpler because there are no “hunks of machine code” embedded everywhere that can literally do anything. Instead, you precisely describe exactly what effects your program requires in a declarative fashion (and in more advanced versions, you describe how effects at one layer of abstraction translate to effects at a lower level of abstraction). You can separate the description of a program from what it actually does. For example, a web program can build HTML, but that description can be interpreted to HTML on a DOM node, HTML on a Canvas node, or PDF on the server. You can mock out dependencies. If your external dependencies (such as file systems, network systems, APIs, etc.) are all described by data structures, then you can easily traverse such data structures to make sure that when you feed them the right values, they return the right responses. Unlike mocking libraries, this approach is totally type-safe and doesn’t require any runtime support. You can inspect the program as it’s being run. For example, you can add logging lines to print out what each instruction is about to do, and what it succeeded in doing. These log lines are quite detailed and can replace the need for manual logging. Moreover, since they can be “weaved in” during the act of composing interpreters, logging can truly have no overhead when it is disabled. No boilerplate and no overhead — sounds good to me! Beyond just logging, you can add whole aspects to your program at runtime. For example, adding authentication, authorization, and auditing into a program by composing together interpreters (this is how my company produces a secure version of the Quasar Analytics) project without tampering with the code base. It’s like aspect-oriented programming, but type safe and much more flexible!

In addition to all these benefits, you get the very tangible benefits of being able to reason about total, pure, deterministic code, even in the presence of effects (at least, for the majority of your code). The benefits of that cascade to new development, maintaining existing code, adding tests, fixing bugs, adding team members, and so much more.

Summary

I hope at least some of what we’ve covered in this post made sense. More than that, I hope you have a glimpse for how we can write full programs using total, deterministic, pure functions — and how that such an approach leads to other benefits, some of which we are just starting to discover.

If nothing else, this is a call to learn more functional programming! To persevere in spite of the strange names, incomplete documentation, and confusing types.

There is power in functional programming. Tremendous power. In my experience, those who take the time to learn functional programming end up becoming very passionate about it and never return to the old ways. Functional programming gives developers superpowers—the ability to write software in simpler ways that result in cleaner code, lower cost of maintenance, lower technical debt, easier composition, easier reasoning, and much more.

If you’re intrigued, I urge you to stick with it, and if you get stuck, please know that myself and numerous other members of the functional programming community have your back. We’ll help you get to the next level, value by value, type by type, lambda by lambda.

See you on the other side, partner!