Of course, hackers have to know about a language before they can use it. How are they to hear? From other hackers. But there has to be some initial group of hackers using the language for others even to hear about it. I wonder how large this group has to be; how many users make a critical mass? Off the top of my head, I'd say twenty. If a language had twenty separate users, meaning twenty users who decided on their own to use it, I'd consider it to be real.
Getting there can't be easy. I would not be surprised if it is harder to get from zero to twenty than from twenty to a thousand. The best way to get those initial twenty users is probably a trojan horse: give people an application they want, which happens to be written in the new language.
Let's start by acknowledging one external factor that does affect the popularity of a programming language. To become popular, a programming language has to be the scripting language of a popular system. Fortran and Cobol were the scripting languages of early IBM mainframes. C was the scripting language of Unix, and so, later, were Perl and Python. Tcl is the scripting language of Tk, Visual Basic of Windows, (a form of) Lisp of Emacs, PHP of web servers, and Java and Javascript of web browsers.
Programming languages don't exist in isolation. To hack is a transitive verbhackers are usually hacking somethingand in practice languages are judged relative to whatever they're used to hack. So if you want to design a popular language, you either have to supply more than a language, or you have to design your language to replace the scripting language of some existing system.
One way to describe this situation is to say that a language isn't judged on its own merits. Another view is that a programming language really isn't a programming language unless it's also the scripting language of something. This only seems unfair if it comes as a surprise. I think it's no more unfair than expecting a programming language to have, say, an implementation. It's just part of what a programming language is.
A programming language does need a good implementation, of course, and this must be free. Companies will pay for software, but individual hackers won't, and it's the hackers you need to attract.
A language also needs to have a book about it. The book should be thin, wellwritten, and full of good examples. Kernighan and Ritchie's C Programming Language is the ideal here. At the moment I'd almost say that a language has to have a book published by O'Reilly. That's becoming the test of mattering to hackers.
There should be online documentation as well. In fact, the book can start as online documentation. But physical books aren't obsolete yet. Their format is convenient, and the de facto censorship imposed by publishers is a useful if imperfect filter. Bookstores are one of the most important places for learning about new languages.
Given that you can supply the three things any language needsa free implementation, a book, and something to hackhow do you make a language that hackers will like?
One thing hackers like is succinctness. Hackers are lazy, in the same way that mathematicians and modernist architects are lazy: they hate anything extraneous. It would not be far from the truth to say that a hacker about to write a program decides what language to use, at least subconsciously, based on the total number of characters he'll have to type. If this isn't precisely how hackers think, a language designer would do well to act as if it were.
The most important kind of succinctness comes from making the language more abstract. It is to get this that we use highlevel languages in the first place. So it would seem that the more of it you can get, the better. A language designer should always be looking at programs and asking, is there some way to express this in fewer tokens? If you can do something that makes many different programs shorter, it's probably not a coincidence: you've probably discovered a useful new abstraction.
It's a mistake to try to baby the user with long-winded expressions meant to resemble English. Cobol is notorious for this flaw. A hacker would consider being asked to write
add x to y giving z
instead of
z = x + y
as something between an insult to his intelligence and a sin against God.
Succinctness is one place where statically typed languages lose. All other things being equal, no one wants to begin a program with a bunch of declarations. Anything that can be implicit, should be. The amount of boilerplate in a Java hello-world program is almost enough evidence, by itself, to convict.
Individual tokens should be short as well. Perl and Common Lisp occupy opposite poles on this question. Perl programs can be cryptically dense, while the names of built-in Common Lisp operators are comically long. The designers of Common Lisp probably expected users to have text editors that would type these long names for them. But the cost of a long name is not just the cost of typing it. There is also the cost of reading it, and the cost of the space it takes up on your screen.
There is one thing more important than succinctness to a hacker: being able to do what you want. In the history of programming languages, a surprising amount of effort has gone into preventing programmers from doing things considered to be improper. This is a dangerously presumptuous plan. How can the language designer know what the programmer will need to do? I think language designers would do better to consider their target user to be a genius who will need to do things they never anticipated, rather than a bumbler who needs to be protected from himself. The bumbler will shoot himself in the foot anyway. You may save him from referring to variables in another module, but you can't save him from writing a badly designed program to solve the wrong problem, and taking forever to do it.
Good programmers often want to do dangerous and unsavory things. By unsavory I mean things that go behind whatever semantic facade the language is trying to present: getting hold of the internal representation of some highlevel abstraction, for example. Hackers like to hack, and hacking means getting inside things and second-guessing the original designer.
Let yourself be second-guessed . When you make any tool, people use it in ways you didn't intend, and this is especially true of a highly articulated tool like a programming language. Many a hacker will want to tweak your semantic model in a way that you never imagined. I say, let them. Give the programmer access to as much internal stuff as you can.
A hacker may only want to subvert the intended model of things once or twice in a big program. But what a difference it makes to be able to. And it may be more than a question of just solving a problem. There is a kind of pleasure here too. Hackers share the surgeon's secret pleasure in poking about in gross innards, the teenager's secret pleasure in popping zits. For boys, at least, certain kinds of horrors are fascinating. Maxim magazine publishes an annual volume of photographs, containing a mix of pin-ups and grisly accidents. They know their audience.
A really good language should be both clean and dirty: cleanly designed, with a small core of well understood and highly orthogonal operators, but dirty in the sense that it lets hackers have their way with it. C is like this. So were the early Lisps. A real hacker's language will always have a slightly raffish character.
A good programming language should have features that make the kind of people who use the phrase "software engineering" shake their heads disapprovingly. At the other end of the continuum are languages like Pascal, models of propriety that are good for teaching and not much else.