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As climate writers, my colleagues and I spend a lot of time telling readers that places are hot. The Arabian Peninsula? It’s hot. The Atlantic Ocean? It’s hot. The southern U.S. and northern Mexico? Hot and getting hotter.
But here’s a little secret: “Hot” doesn’t really mean … anything. The word is, of course, of critical importance when it comes to communicating that global temperatures are the highest they’ve been in 125,000 years because of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, or for public health officials to anticipate and prevent deaths when the environment reaches the point where human bodies start malfunctioning. But when you hear it’s “100 degrees out,” what does that really tell you?
Beyond that you’re a fellow member of the Fahrenheit cult, the answer is: not a lot. Humans can “probably avoid overheating” in temperatures of 115 degrees — but only if they’re in a dry room with 10 percent relative humidity, wearing “minimal” clothing, and not moving, The New York Times reports. On the other hand, you have a high chance of life-threatening heat stroke when it’s a mere 90 degrees out … if the humidity is at 95%. Then there are all the variables in between: if there’s a breeze, if you’re pregnant, if you’re standing in the shade or the sun, if you’re a child, if you’re running a 10K or if you’re napping on your couch in front of a swamp cooler.
In order to better specify how hot “hot” is, a number of different equations and techniques have been developed around the world. In general, this math takes into account two main variables: temperature (the one we all use, also known as “dry bulb” or “ambient air temperature,” which is typically measured five feet above the ground in the shade) and relative humidity (the percentage of air saturated with water vapor, also known as the ugly cousin of the trendier dew point; notably Canada’s heat index equivalent, the Humidex, is calculated from the dew point rather than the relative humidity).
In events like the already deadly heat dome over the southern United States and northern Mexico this week, you typically hear oohing and ahhing about the “heat index,” which is sometimes also called the “apparent temperature,” “feels like temperature,” “humiture,” or, in AccuWeather-speak, the “RealFeel® temperature.”
But what does that mean and how is it calculated?
The heat index roughly approximates how hot it “actually feels.”
This is different than the given temperature on the thermometer because the amount of humidity in the air affects how efficiently sweat evaporates from our skin and in turn keeps us cool. The more humidity there is, the less efficiently our bodies can cool themselves, and the hotter we feel; in contrast, when the air is dry, it’s easier for our bodies to keep cool. Regrettably, this indeed means that insufferable Arizonans who say “it’s a dry heat!” have a point.
The heat index, then, tells you an estimate of the temperature it would have to be for your body to be similarly stressed in “normal” humidity conditions of around 20%. In New Orleans this week, for example, the temperature on the thermometer isn’t expected to be above 100°F, but because the humidity is so high, the heat toll on the body will be as if it were actually 115°F out in normal humidity.
Importantly, the heat index number is calculated as if you were standing in the shade. If you’re exposed to the sun at all, the “feels like” is, of course, actually higher — potentially as many as 15 degrees higher. Someone standing in the New Orleans sun this week might more realistically feel like they’re in 130-degree heat.

Here’s the catch, though: The heat index is “purely theoretical since the index can’t be measured and is highly subjective,” as meteorologist Chris Robbins explains. The calculations are all made under the assumption that you are a 5’7”, 147-pound healthy white man wearing short sleeves and pants, and walking in the shade at the speed of 3.1 mph while a 6-mph wind gently ruffles your hair.
Wait, what?
I’m glad you asked.
In 1979, a physicist named R. G. Steadman published a two-part paper delightfully titled “The Assessment of Sultriness.” In it, he observed that though many approaches to measuring “sultriness,” or the combined effects of temperature and humidity, can be taken, “it is best assessed in terms of its physiological effect on humans.” He then set out, with obsessive precision, to do so.
Steadman came up with a list of approximately 19 variables that contribute to the overall “feels like” temperature, including the surface area of an average human (who is assumed to be 1.7 meters tall and weigh 67 kilograms); their clothing cover (84%) and those clothes’ resistance to heat transfer (the shirt and pants are assumed to be 20% fiber and 80% air); the person’s core temperature (a healthy 98.6°F) and sweat rate (normal); the effective wind speed (5 knots); the person’s activity level (typical walking speed); and a whole lot more.
Here’s an example of what just one of those many equations looked like:

Needless to say, Steadman’s equations and tables weren’t exactly legible for a normal person — and additionally they made a whole lot of assumptions about who a “normal person” was — but Steadman was clearly onto something. Describing how humidity and temperature affected the human body was, at the very least, interesting and useful. How, then, to make it easier?
In 1990, the National Weather Service’s Lans P. Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis to simplify Steadman’s equations into a single handy formula while at the same time acknowledging that to do so required relying on assumptions about the kind of body that was experiencing the heat and the conditions surrounding him. Rothfusz, for example, used Steadman’s now-outdated calculations for the build of an average American man, who as of 2023 is 5’9” and weighs 198 pounds. This is important because, as math educator Stan Brown notes in a blog post, if you’re heavier than the 147 pounds assumed in the traditional heat index equation, then your “personal heat index” will technically be slightly hotter.
Rothfusz’s new equation looked like this:
Heat index = -42.379 + 2.04901523T + 10.14333127R - 0.22475541TR - 6.83783x10-3T 2 - 5.481717x10-2R 2 + 1.22874x10-3T 2R + 8.5282x10-4TR2 - 1.99x10-6T 2R 2
So much easier, right?
If your eyes didn’t totally glaze over, it actually sort of is — in the equation, T stands for the dry bulb temperature (in degrees Fahrenheit) and R stands for the relative humidity, and all you have to do is plug those puppies into the formula to get your heat index number. Or not: There are lots of online calculators that make doing this math as straightforward as just typing in the two numbers.
Because Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis, the heat index that is regularly cited by the government and media has a margin of error of +/- 1.3°F relative to a slightly more accurate, albeit hypothetical, heat index. Also of note: There are a bunch of different methods of calculating the heat index, but Rothfusz’s is the one used by the NWS and the basis for its extreme heat alerts. The AccuWeather “RealFeel,” meanwhile, has its own variables that it takes into account and that give it slightly different numbers.
Midday Wednesday in New Orleans, for example, when the ambient air temperature was 98°F, the relative humidity was 47%, and the heat index hovered around 108.9°F, AccuWeather recorded a RealFeel of 111°F and a RealFeel Shade of 104°F.
You might also be wondering at this point, as I did, that if Steadman at one time factored out all these variables individually, wouldn’t it be possible to write a simple computer program that is capable of personalizing the “feel like” temperature so they are closer to your own physical specifications? The answer is yes, although as Randy Au writes in his excellent Substack post on the heat index equation, no one has seemingly actually done this yet. Math nerds, your moment is now.
Because we’re Americans, it is important that we use the weirdest possible measurements at all times. This is probably why the heat index is commonly cited by our government, media, and meteorologists when communicating how hot it is outside.
But it gets weirder. Unlike the heat index, though, the “wet-bulb globe temperature” (sometimes abbreviated “WBGT”) is specifically designed to understand “heat-related stress on the human body at work (or play) in direct sunlight,” NWS explains. In a sense, the wet-bulb globe temperature measures what we experience after we’ve been cooled by sweat.

The “bulb” we’re referring to here is the end of a mercury thermometer (not to be confused with a lightbulb or juvenile tulip). Natural wet-bulb temperature (which is slightly different from the WBGT, as I’ll explain in a moment) is measured by wrapping the bottom of a thermometer in a wet cloth and passing air over it. When the air is dry, it is by definition less saturated with water and therefore has more capacity for moisture. That means that under dry conditions, more water from the cloth around the bulb evaporates, which pulls more heat away from the bulb, dropping the temperature. This is the same reason why you feel cold when you get out of a shower or swimming pool. The drier the air, the colder the reading on the wet-bulb thermometer will be compared to the actual air temperature.
Wet bulb temperature - why & when is it used?www.youtube.com
If the air is humid, however, less water is able to evaporate from the wet cloth. When the relative humidity is at 100% — that is, the air is fully saturated with water — then the wet-bulb temperature and the normal dry-bulb temperature will be the same.
Because of this, the wet-bulb temperature is usually lower than the relative air temperature, which makes it a bit confusing when presented without context (a comfortable wet-bulb temperature at rest is around 70°F). Wet-bulb temperatures over just 80, though, can be very dangerous, especially for active people.
The WBGT is, like the heat index, an apparent temperature, or “feels like,” calculation; generally when you see wet-bulb temperatures being referred to, it is actually the WBGT that is being discussed. This is also the measurement that is preferred by the military, athletic organizations, road-race organizers, and the Occupational Safety and Health Administration because it helps you understand how, well, survivable the weather is, especially if you are moving.
Our bodies regulate temperature by sweating to shed heat, but sweat stops working “once the wet-bulb temperature passes 95°F,” explains Popular Science. “That’s because, in order to maintain a normal internal temperature, your skin has to stay at 95°F degrees or below.” Exposure to wet-bulb temperatures over 95°F can be fatal within just six hours. On Wednesday, when I was doing my readings of New Orleans, the wet-bulb temperature was around 88.5°F.
The WBGT is helpful because it takes the natural wet-bulb temperature reading a step further by factoring in considerations not only of temperature and humidity, but also wind speed, sun angle, and solar radiation (basically cloud cover). Calculating the WBGT involves taking a weighted average of the ambient, wet-bulb, and globe temperature readings, which together cover all these variables.
That formula looks like:
Wet-bulb globe temperature = 0.7Tw + 0.2Tg + 0.1Td
Tw is the natural wet-bulb temperature, Tg is the globe thermometer temperature (which measures solar radiation), and Td is the dry bulb temperature. By taking into account the sun angle, cloud cover, and wind, the WBGT gives a more nuanced read of how it feels to be a body outside — but without getting into the weeds with 19 different difficult-to-calculate variables like, ahem, someone we won’t further call out here.
Thankfully, there’s a calculator for the WBGT formula, although don’t bother entering all the info if you don’t have to — the NWS reports it nationally, too.
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The bill has bipartisan support, but even as Washington State burns, chances for passing it this session are looking slim.
It has been five days since the Old Trail fire burned through northeast Spokane, one of three blazes to encroach on the periphery of Washington state’s second-largest city this week. Tens of thousands of residents remain under evacuation notices, with some still unsure of if their homes are standing. While fire crews used cool weather at the end of the week to dig in new fire lines, this weekend marks the return of hot, dry, and windy red flag conditions.
The fight is far from over — nor is it limited to Spokane. The entire Northwest appears to be ablaze, with 44 large, uncontained fires burning in Washington and Oregon alone.
Something, everyone agrees, needs to be done. Exactly what, though, is a tougher question.
Most prominent among the potential solutions is the Fix Our Forests Act, which has managed to earn bipartisan support in the halls of an increasingly divided Congress. But it has also split the environmental movement in two. Even as the urgency has risen, hope for it to pass during this Congress has diminished, a sign of just how fraught forest management has become in this age of fires.
Initially drafted in 2023 under President Joe Biden, the Fix Our Forests Act aims to modernize forest management practices by sweeping away regulatory hurdles. After passing the House in September 2024, the bill arrived too late in the Senate for a committee vote. The bill was picked up again in 2025 after the Los Angeles wildfires, with its co-sponsor, House Committee on Natural Resources Chair Bruce Westerman, touting it as a way to prevent “future disasters.” (Westerman reintroduced the law with Democratic Representative Scott Peters of San Diego after they bonded over sequoias on a flight.)
With California’s tragedy fresh on the lower chamber’s minds, the bill quickly passed to a floor vote, with 64 Democrats joining all of the Republicans in sending it to the Senate. There, the bill has similar cross-aisle support. As one press email I received from an electrical manufacturer’s industry group in support of the legislation observed, “At least we can agree on wildfire mitigation.”
But though FOFA cleared its Senate committee markup 18-5, the August recess is now looming, meaning the window for a floor vote is narrowing. Given other must-pass bills languishing in the Senate, supporters of the Fix Our Forest Act fear it may once again get booted to the next Congress.
Matt Weiner, the CEO and founder of the nonprofit advocacy group Megafire Action, which backed the bill with a six-figure ad campaign last year, told me he’s nevertheless feeling optimistic. “They’ve gotten the clearances they need on both sides to get it into a must‑pass vehicle, so there’s potential for floor time in September and potential for lame duck movement as well,” he said.
I’ve been speaking with Weiner about FOFA since 2024; against the backdrop of the burning West, he’s getting antsy. “We can’t just be discussing it for the next decade as these treasured landscapes that we love so much go up in smoke,” Weiner said. “The way they’re burning, they’re not going to come back in the way we know the West.”
FOFA aims to prevent fires by making it easier for forest managers to use mitigation practices, such as prescribed burning and mechanical thinning, on federal land. It does this by allowing projects of up to 10,000 acres to qualify for a “categorical exclusion” exempting them from National Environmental Policy Act reviews, more than tripling the current cap of 3,000 acres. It also gives the Forest Service discretion to designate high-risk wildfire regions of up to 250,000-acres as “fireshed management areas,” a determination that bypasses time-consuming public and tribal comment processes, NEPA reviews, and certain Endangered Species Act and National Historic Preservation Act guardrails. The statute of limitations for stakeholders and the public to bring a legal challenge against a management plan is further reduced from six years to 150 days.
In 2025, The Breakthrough Institute, which also supports the bill, found that forest management projects drew more NEPA-related litigation than any other kind, adding an average of two years to their development timeline. “There are plenty of examples where we’ve seen those exact forests where projects were planned go up in smoke,” Emily Bass, the director of federal policy, food, and agriculture at Breakthrough, told me.
Environmental and conservation groups are divided on the bill, though. More than 100 nonprofits and advocacy groups — including the Sierra Club, the Center for Biological Diversity, and Earthjustice — signed onto a letter ahead of FOFA’s Senate committee hearing last fall arguing that “provisions of the bill represent the antithesis of effective, science-based wildfire mitigation and offer false solutions that would harm communities, ecosystems, and biodiversity.”
Of particular concern is the fact that, among more popular wildfire mitigation techniques like prescribed burns, the bill considers “any” timber harvest to be a “hazardous fuels management activity.” That means, in essence, that FOFA would open hundreds of thousands of acres of federal forest to NEPA-free logging in the name of wildfire mitigation.
“It makes sense that there might be some emergency situation where you’d need to get in and quickly remove vegetation on a small area,” Ellen Montgomery, the public lands campaign director for Environment America, told me. But a categorical exclusion of 10,000 acres would create a “‘log first, tell us what you log later’ situation,” she said. “It could be old growth forest. It could be mature. It could be wildlife habitat. It could have serious watershed health impacts, and we literally wouldn’t even know they’ve done it.”
In addition to sidestepping NEPA, a separate provision in FOFA would make it easier to avoid redoing Endangered Species Act consultations at the landscape-plan level if new information about a listed animal or plant emerges, something opponents say is another nail in the coffin of an already substantially weakened ESA.
Weiner is sensitive to criticisms that focus on the bill as a “handout” to corporate timber interests, arguing that “we don’t have examples of a single wildfire categorical exclusion being used inappropriately for timber harvest.”
Alex Craven, the national forest campaign manager for the Sierra Club, wasn’t persuaded by that argument. “It hasn’t been abused yet,” he said. “My counter question would be, why would some of these sweeping authorities need to be as large or expansive as they are?” (Susan Jane M. Brown, the principal and chief legal counsel of Silvix Resources, a nonprofit environmental law firm, later pointed me to a case from earlier this year in which the timber industry used a categorical exclusion in Oregon to justify logging that a judge found “would have no significant impact” on actually reducing fire hazards.)
There is also President Trump’s 2025 executive order establishing timber harvest quotas for the Forest Service. Though FOFA was initially drafted in 2023, under the previous administration, the current Forest Service chief is a former timber lobbyist whose “theory of wildfire prevention [is] you prevent wildfires by not having trees,” the conservation-focused Substack More Than Just Parks has argued. Though supporters of FOFA argue the Trump administration will pursue its timber quotas with or without the bill, Montgomery of Environment America said that complicity on those grounds is “ridiculous.”
“Just because there’s a very permissive executive order that encourages increased logging doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for Congress to pass a law to codify that," she said. “In fact, it makes it worse — a future administration can rescind an executive order. But if this law is on the books that authorizes these large categorical exclusions, that’s much harder to reverse.”
New additions to the bill such as a workforce protection program for Forest Service employees, a consolidated wildland-urban interface grant program, and the streamlined Wildfire Intelligence Center have helped win over some of the more forest management-focused holdouts over the years, including the Nature Conservancy, the National Wildlife Foundation, and the Environmental Defense Fund.
“I can’t speak to other nonprofits’ fears on this, but I can tell you we feel confident that the guardrails with NEPA and public review, and even the categorical exclusion increase of 10,000 acres, are well within the reasonable need for us to carry out our work and also protect important habitat, drinking water, and other aspects,” Eric Sprague, the director of forest conservation at the National Audubon Society, which also supports FOFA, told me. He added that he was particularly excited about a reforestation piece included in the bill, which creates a list of priority projects, as well as its forward-looking seed sourcing program focused on adapting to hotter future habitats.
FOFA is one of a suite of fire management bills in various stages in Congress, including some with overlapping aims. (The Farm Bill that passed the House this spring, for example, contains language expanding categorical exclusions to 10,000 acres.) Some organizations have championed the Community Protection and Wildfire Resilience Act, which has been referred to committee in the Senate and focuses more on community-level resilience measures like home hardening, as an alternative to FOFA.
The Wildfire Emissions Prevention Act is a narrower bill that also has bipartisan support, and entered committee last month. Like FOFA, it has also divided environmental groups with its approach. Though it would ostensibly weaken Clean Air Act protections, it does so in the name of making it easier to greenlight prescribed burns, a well-tested tactic for curbing major fires in certain ecosystems. Bass noted that the Forest Service treated only 1.1 million acres with beneficial fire last year, against a national target of 3.6 million, even despite an influx of Inflation Reduction Act and Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act funding. An optimal rate, per Breakthrough’s analysis, is closer to 3.9 million acres per year in California alone.
But underscoring the fragmented nature of wildfire mitigation bedfellows and enemies, even WEPA has its skeptics. “EPA’s regulations already provide for [prescribed fire as an exceptional event],” Abi Vijayan, an attorney at the Environmental Defense Fund who testified against WEPA, told me. “It doesn’t put prescribed fires on the table as a legal matter,” she went on. “It just weakens the guardrails that are already in place in both the Clean Air Act and EPA’s regulations.”
But here’s the $3.4 million question: If FOFA had passed when it was first introduced back in 2024, would the 2026 fire season look the same as it does now? It’s impossible to say. While Weiner pointed to positive examples like the prescribed burn scar that helped save South Lake Tahoe in 2021, experts largely agree that poor or stymied forest management efforts weren’t the root cause of the chaparral fires that burned into L.A. neighborhoods unwisely carved into fire-prone landscapes.
Even the bill’s co-sponsors acknowledge that while the bill might be a “move in the right direction,” it is ultimately meaningless in a greater policy vacuum. As New Mexico Democratic Senator Martin Heinrich put it to me in a statement: “Congress has to provide the meaningful investment to get this work done, and this administration needs to stop undermining the science, our public lands, and the federal workforce that make effective forest management possible.”
Forest management is only one piece of a complex puzzle; we also need to manage our communities, both where and how they are built. Looking at some of the most recent catastrophic fires — in Lahaina, Los Angeles, and Spokane — the unifying trend is not overgrown, untreated forests, but rather the nationwide pattern of suburban encroachment. “Federal land increasingly contributes little to disasters in urban and semi-urban settings,” The New York Times’ David Wallace-Wells wrote in January, marking the anniversary of the L.A. fires. Indeed, despite Westerman’s promise that FOFA would prevent “future disasters,” it likely would have done very little for Spokane, where an arsonist ignited the fire in a state park.
Craven of the Sierra Club emphasized that this is why he opposes the blunt instrument of FOFA when it comes to tackling the hydra that is wildfire. “It’s almost more valuable to look at the wildfire crisis as the wildfire crises in terms of what you are trying to solve,” he said. “Is that the protection of homes and communities? Or is it returning forest health and natural fire cycles to these landscapes? The solutions you come up with need to be matched to the right problems.”
A chat with Colette Lamontagne, senior director for electric power at Ceres.
This week’s conversation is with Colette Lamontagne, senior director for electric power at the sustainability finance advocacy group Ceres. Her team just released a shareholder engagement guide for the utility space around data center development. I’ve been wondering when the ESG crowd would enter into the AI infrastructure fray, so I asked if I could chat with Colette about what the guide could teach my lovely readers and whether the data center backlash portends a new wave of boardroom fights between electric companies and institutional investors.
Our conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
What is the big message of this guide? If you were to talk about this over a coffee, what would be the topline takeaway?
These data centers are coming, but they can be done right. They don’t have to be done in a way that negatively impacts energy, water, and communities, and we need to slow down just enough to be able to do it right.
It’s not a guide about what data centers should do — it's a guide on the risks to the electric power sector. The biggest risk is the magnitude of power needed and the timing — how quickly it’s needed. Because of that, the traditional process for electric utilities can’t keep pace. It’s all regulated. There’s a lot of steps they have to go through to build new transmission infrastructure and new generation. If the grid connected companies can’t keep up the pace, data centers will just build their own generation. And the biggest problem with that? You have all these resources not shared by the users.
Do you think data centers are going to create a new wave of ESG-based investor advocacy?
I haven’t thought about it as a new age for ESG, but that’s a good point. We are moving beyond asking companies about targets and to create transition plans. Now we’re looking at how to accelerate solutions for climate impacts. I do think there’s a new age related to that.
When it comes to data centers, the questions aren't about utilities and their targets, but instead how they’ll meet this need so they don’t go back to old coal plants or [build] new [behind the meter] plants not used by the grid.
Should we anticipate some kind of new shareholder advocacy wave around how integrated utilities and power companies address or mitigate the impacts of the data center boom on meeting their resource plans, especially decisions made as a result of shareholder advocacy on climate?
If a data center comes to a utility and says they need 100 megawatts of power and the utility chooses to serve that with coal or gas instead of new renewables, it will impact their clean energy goals. If they say they signed a power purchase agreement and give all these renewable resources to a data center, that’s not new — you’re still impacting your clean energy goals because then you’re taking the renewables away from other customers. You have to build something else for those other customers. What are you building instead?
How they think about their long-term resource plans is really important. These generation sources will be around for a very long time. In most cases, renewable energy is cheaper to build. Gas plants require a four- or five-year wait for turbines. So not only is it better for the environment but better for business to get these renewables built.
I’ve written a lot about data center water use. The guide goes into the energy sector’s water use impacts from this increased power demand from data centers; specifically, it says investors should consider asking utilities to conduct new comprehensive water risk assessments around it. Can you help my readers and I better understand what this kind of assessment is and why companies should consider doing this?
Different types of electric generation facilities use different amounts of water. Some of it is withdrawn and put back. Some of it is withdrawn and consumed. Those matter. In cases when water is drawn and put back, the temperature goes up — that’s impacting the environment.
It’s an interesting dichotomy. The new technologies that use air cooling use less water, but they use more energy. Then you have to think about what electricity you’re using and how much water that electricity is using. It’s the life-cycle impacts.
Is there any kind of risk for investors or energy companies associated with the data center sector, given its political challenges?
Well, utilities usually get the short end of the straw. They always get blamed for everything. I say that with a laugh because I used to work for a utility.
Some of these companies have an obligation to serve. If someone comes to them and says they need power, they are required to provide it. However, they can protect themselves and other ratepayers. If the utility builds a whole generation plant and all this transmission infrastructure to serve one data center, and then the data center gets canceled, yeah that’s a risk — not to the bottom line of the utility but to their reputation.
Plus more on this week’s biggest development fights.
1. Washtenaw County, Michigan — The Mitten State made itself the center of the data center backlash this week, as multiple AI skeptics won key Democratic congressional primaries. Yet the most significant election result wasn’t a primary vote, but rather a quiet referendum in a small town outside Ann Arbor.
2. Travis County, Texas — I’ve been getting a lot of texts from sources about Texas Governor Greg Abbott issuing a stop to data center permitting. Let’s get into what really is happening here.
3. Jefferson County, Missouri — Data center opposition can win a Republican political primary, too, as demonstrated this week in this rural pocket of the Show-Me State.
4. Santa Clara County, California — We conclude this week’s Hotspots with a warning about the dire political straits of battery storage technology.