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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 movement against data centers is raising up a raison d'etre of the anti-renewables movement: protecting would-be farmland.
Farm owners and operators across the U.S. are winning national headlines almost every week for rejecting big dollar offers from data center developers. In Hanover County, Virginia, protestors are chanting “Grow Tomatoes, Not Data Centers.” In Pennsylvania and elsewhere, Republican legislators are mulling proposals to block the sale of so-called “prime farmland” for data center development. In Texas, the fight over data center development has engulfed the race for the state’s ag commissioner seat. In the Midwest, where agriculture reigns supreme, statewide races and congressional campaigns are slowly but surely being defined by the issue. Like in Nebraska where Austin Ahlman, an independent candidate running for Congress in Nebraska’s first district, told me he believes the data center backlash is reflective of a populist politics that broadly criticize elites and top-down control of the economy: “I think sometimes people misunderstand the anxieties of rural Americans when it comes to these data centers because a lot of their fears are about control long term.”
Unlike the farmland backlash around renewable energy development, the loudest critics are on the anti-monopolist left. On Wednesday, the prominent opposition group Food and Water Watch signaled farmland could soon be a watchword in the national data center debate – in a fashion analogous to what we’ve seen with renewable energy. The organization’s blog post entitled “The AI Data Center Boom Is Coming for Farmers” declared data centers verboten because of the threat they posed to “small and midsized family farmers.” Mitch Jones, deputy director of the campaign outfit, said he believes the threat to farmland is “a compelling reason to oppose data center development” but that his organization’s fight is primarily focused on protecting small business owners and an anti-monopoly sentiment.
“If data centers are coming into their areas, this puts even more pressure on them. It drives up the cost of their electricity, just as it does anyone else. It competes with them for water for crops, and it affects the value of their land in a perverse way,” Jones told me.
None of this should be surprising. An agricultural workforce has always been a good barometer for figuring out if a community will accept new infrastructure of any kind. We’ve seen as much time and time again with renewable energy, carbon capture, fossil energy and mining, just to name a few industries.
This same rule is true with data centers. In April, county commissioners in Kosciusko County, Indiana, unanimously rejected a Prologis data center; nearly 90% of acreage in Kosciusko County is being actively farmed, according to the Heatmap Pro database. Linn County, Iowa, in February enacted a rule severely restricting data center development in unincorporated areas; almost three-fourths of the land is used by the ag sector. A potential Amazon facility is causing heartburn in Clinton County, Ohio; nearly all land in the county is used for farming and utility-scale solar development has a recent history of conflict with landowners.
To be candid, I’m struck by the similarity in the backlash over siting data centers on farmland – a resemblance so close that some counties are starting to restrict renewable energy and data center development on farmland at the same time. This week, Eau Claire County, Wisconsin created a new “farmland preservation plan” discouraging utility-scale solar energy and data centers on any potential farmland. (More than 40% of land in this county is currently being used for farmland, according to Heatmap Pro.)
Jones at Food and Water Watch said his organization taking on the “protect farmland” mantle had nothing to do with the success this argument has had against renewable energy. “That thought never entered my head,” he told me, adding that if communities respond to the data center backlash by taking steps that short-circuit solar and wind too, that’s “a coincidence.”
I kept pressing. What if the pivot to farmland protection leads to more communities restricting renewable energy along with the data centers? “If you’re looking for a reason to oppose solar and wind, you can come up with that without having to attach data centers to it,” Jones said. “We’ve seen rural communities oppose solar and wind before data centers blew up across the country. It’s nothing new.”
And more of the week’s top news around renewable energy projects.
1. Virginia Beach, Virginia – The right-wing interest group lawsuit against Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind is now dead, concluding one of the wackier tales of the Trump 2.0 energy era.
2. Box Elder County, Utah – Call it the Box Elder County massacre.
3. Davidson County, Tennessee – We have the latest updates in the Nashville Zoo data center drama and they’re a doozy and a half.
4. Clark County, Ohio – Yet another utility-scale solar farm is in the Ohio state permitting graveyard.
A conversation with Hanson Wood of RWE
This week’s conversation is with Hanson Wood, chief development officer for solar developer RWE. Wood’s perspective felt crucial at a moment when the data center boom is leading to so much deal volume – even after the repeal of the Inflation Reduction Act. So I reached out to his team to see if we could talk about how he’s evaluating all things Fight-related, including the impacts of the data center backlash on solar itself. The following conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
How is solar finding opportunities in the data center development space? I know there’s conversations about speed-to-power and some deal volume, but help us get a better sense of the level of capacity being sought versus fossil or other forms of energy.
Great question. To contextualize, I think it just makes sense to talk about energy demand overall. Solar is filling the base of where the majority of load growth and generation is coming from and going to be served.
Over the last decade, the cost of solar has gone down dramatically. It’s become a very modular technology being deployed in a variety of locations. It can be deployed very quickly at low cost. It can ramp to meet short-term demand needs. And within the space of just energy demand, across utilities and large industrial data center companies, the reality is no single technology is going to be able to serve overall demand. Everything from solar to onshore wind and geothermal and other forms of flexible generation are needed.
What this speaks to is how our grid is pretty finite. We have to be able to mix and match a variety of products to be able to meet an ever-growing reliability need. To make it simple, I think solar’s going to serve the largest base of growing demand because it's cheap and it's available. But it’s not going to be the only technology. We need to be able to serve this load growth reliably. And we know this is going to require a diversity of technologies.
From a social license perspective, does solar power for a data center make it more acceptable for a community? Less acceptable? More friendly?
One thing I want to be clear about: I don’t develop data centers. So I’m looking at it through the same view many people in the industry and the public see it.
I think there’s manifold reasons why people have concerns about data centers, overall. I can’t speak for all of them. But what solar does address is, we don’t want to see large price spikes in the short term and solar can really help in that regard. It can provide near-term generation immediately in a lot of instances at one of the lowest costs in the market.
Whether the broader public makes that connection, it’s probably too early to see. There’s probably a lot of anxiety that has to be addressed by that [data center] community.
When it comes to the state of solar development, have the feelings around data center infrastructure we’ve seen in various places impacted solar projects?
Solar is more often in what we consider rural areas where there’s more of a conservative viewpoint generally.
Where I think we stand in the solar industry is that in the 2010s we were looked at as a one-off, and now what we see as the challenge is that as solar scales, communities are looking at the scale and potential of what solar will be bringing. A lot of the conversations we have with [them] are, is this changing the local character? How is this impacting our way of life?
And the way we try to approach that is to highlight a lot of the public benefits. Renewables are generating significant jobs, locally as well as through funding local services. Farmers setting aside land for renewables are also funding their farms and way of life. I’ve heard testimonials from farmers who’ve said they wouldn’t be able to continue on without the revenue from solar or BESS projects.
The broader community is concerned solar is displacing rural farming, but what we hear from rural landowners is that these projects are allowing them to keep their farms.
Most people when they start looking at renewables, they don’t make that connection. They’re primed to ask, what’s the downside here? But it’s nothing in terms of physical land while the economic value it brings is long-term. It’s 30 years — at a time when the American public is seeing lots of headwinds.
I know at a broader level, you’re addressing the conflicts in solar energy. Do you think the solar industry offers any lessons for the folks now trying to get data centers built?
Anyone who is building large infrastructure projects can’t ignore early community engagement. One of the things people should be thinking about as they’re developing projects is these things are going to be here 20, 30 years, right? When we develop those projects we are trying to build relationships in a sustainable fashion.
We really take into consideration the concerns we hear. Again, people are primed to see the downside in any development, and without that early engagement – genuinely – you risk whether other people come along and hear the benefits or feel like their voice mattered in the process of development.