Philosophy Professor: “Is claim X true or false?”
Student: “Neither. Or, rather, both.”
PP: “What do you mean?”
S: “Well, it’s sorta true and sorta false, depending on how you look at it.”
PP: “So, if you look at it Way A, it could be true, and if you look at it Way B, it could be false.”
S: “Yes. I think so.”
PP: “Good. So you agree that Way A is different from Way B?”
S: “Yes.”
PP: “So, if I told you that claim X just means what claim A means, would you say it is true or false?”
S: “True.”
PP: “Not both or neither?”
S: “Not if you just mean X on Way A.”
The Law of Excluded Middle is a principle of reasoning that says, for any claim and its negation (X and not-X), at least one of them must be true. The idea is that X, once it has been clearly specified, is never kind of true, sort of true, more true or less true; it is either true or false.
Examples:
“This is a cat.” Here we may need to distinguish “house cat” from “jungle cat,” “my cat” from “your cat,” a “feline” from a “pole cat” (skunk), etc. Nevertheless, once we make these distinctions, remaining claim is either true or false; nothing in-between.
“The barn is red.” Here, again, we may need to make fine distinctions between shades of red, such as mauve, garnet, rose, etc. But once we specify a shade, we can be sure that our claim is either true or false.
“2 + 2 = 5.” Unless by “2″ you mean something eccentric, like “cardigan” or “squid,” this one should be obvious.
“Barack Obama is caucasian.” This one is a bit trickier. There may be controversy over how to define “caucasian.” If you simply mean white-skinned, the claim is clearly false. If you mean geneologically descended from the Russian Caucuses (the actual origin of the term), the claim is also false. If you mean, “not of African descent,” the claim is false, at least on his father’s side. Nevertheless, Australian aborigines are caucasian despite their lack of white skin and lack of descent from the Russian Caucuses. So, we may have to jump some difficult hurdles in defining “caucasion.” But, nontheless, once we settle on a definition, Obama will either meet that description or he will not.
This principle is useful in staving-off vague and unuseful language in our writing. It helps us achieve a greater degree of precision in our claims aobut reality. It forces us to say exactly what we mean, and gives us clear direction as to how to respond to objections that miss the point or that are off-topic. The principle tells us that, for every claim, when properly qualified, our response should be acceptance or rejection based on the available evidence, or suspension of judgment given the lack of sufficient evidence. But never both or “kinda-sorta.”
Could any claim be “sort of” true, even after we clearly define our terms? What about future claims? For instance: It will be raining on June 26, 2050. Presumably June 26, 2050 does not exist, so there is no truth now about its weather conditions. But it seems one of the claims “It is raining” or “It is not raining” must be true of that date. Yet, since that date does not exist, is neither true?
The answer is simpler if we assume, as many physicists and philosophers argue, that all times exist. The future, while not accessible to our conscious awareness, nonetheless exists as a metaphysical reality, with future-you intact and doing whatever present-you will be doing at that time. In this strange scenario, there is a matter of fact now about whether it is raining on that future date–though present-we won’t know until we get there.

(from www.foundalis.com)
But what do we do with the more intuitive possibility that the future does not exist? Perhaps for claims about non-existent entities, we must first carefully define our realm of discourse. For instance, do hobbits live in the Shire? Well, strictly speaking, there is no Shire or hobbits, so no. But in the Tolkein’s Middle Earth, the answer is yes. The claim: “Unicorns have one horn,” is true, as long as we’re talking about the definition of mythical creatures and not listing biological taxa.
So, on the assumption that the future does not exist, it remains true that, on June 26, 2050, it will either be raining or it will not–whether any humans are there to see it or not. If Earth ceases to exist before then, then it won’t be raining. But since this future date does not now exist, it is as inappropriate to make a claim about it as it is to talk about hobbits or unicorns as if they were fauna. It would be sort of like saying–the following sentence is false: