We’re talking about extreme heat all wrong.

The first big heat wave of the year has come and gone, and the annual, maddeningly short-sighted response to it will soon follow.

You’ll hear a lot about hydration and shade and cooling centers, heat action plans and the curtailing of sports practices. Those are all smart and necessary – though incomplete if we want to reach the systemic change needed to match the magnitude of risk.

There’s so much more to do to properly brace for these annual, increasingly severe heat waves, and we’re failing the moment by talking about heat mitigation as a moral obligation alone. It’s also a year-round economic problem that slowly erodes every system our communities rely upon.

I study heat policy. Since I began studying in the field, we have had 12 years of Democratic leadership and 6 years of Republican leadership. The recommendations I see today for dealing with extreme heat have not significantly evolved in all that time. And as much as we like to think it is true, politics isn’t only to blame.

In North Carolina and more broadly, heat is mostly presented as a seasonal public health crisis — a humanitarian emergency affecting the elderly, outdoor workers, and low-income communities. That framing is accurate, but insufficient to meet this moment.

Heat is a public health issue, an operational risk, a issue of national security, and a strain on financial resources. We need to discuss it in all these ways.

Our current approach leaves important unanswered questions. Who owns the risk? Who pays? Who benefits financially from reducing it? What happens if nothing changes?

A city planner might read a heat action guide and find useful ideas. But what is a CFO supposed to do with it? What is an appropriations staffer supposed to insert into a must-pass bill? What is an insurance underwriter supposed to price differently? –

Too often, the advice floats below the levers of power.

Meanwhile, heat is already reshaping the American economy. Our research shows labor productivity losses from heat alone total $220 billion per year. In some communities, that equates to more than a 4% annual loss in local GDP. Outdoor work slows or stops. Construction schedules shift. Agricultural yields fluctuate. Energy demand spikes place strain on the grid. Pavement buckles. Rail lines warp. Businesses face rising cooling costs.

This is not just a humanitarian problem. It is a systemic stress on American productivity. So, we should present it in language every major American institution understands: risk management.

Extreme heat reduces labor productivity. It increases overtime and workers’ compensation claims. It accelerates asset degradation. It heightens the probability of power outages and cascading failures. It alters insurance pricing and long-term asset valuations.

If we want heat policy to evolve, three shifts are necessary.

First, move from vulnerability to volatility. Instead of only documenting who suffers, quantify how heat increases volatility in productivity, infrastructure performance, and public budgets. Decision-makers respond to volatility.

Second, link adaptation to return on investment. Cooling infrastructure, improved building performance, smarter scheduling, and grid flexibility are not merely protective measures. They can stabilize revenue streams, reduce downtime, and protect asset value.

Third, embed heat into the legislative bills and budgets that already move. It can be integrated into appropriations report language, infrastructure spending criteria, defense readiness standards, and procurement specifications. The question is not whether we need more plans. It is whether we are willing to tie heat risk to real decisions and real budgets.

The truth is that talking about who gets sick and who dies – while essential – has not, on its own, transformed public spending patterns or private-sector investment behavior.

The moral case for addressing extreme heat remains undeniable. But moral appeal without structural incentive rarely produces systemic change. If we continue to treat it primarily as a niche environmental or public health concern, we will continue to produce beautifully written reports that change little.

But if we frame it as a measurable, recurring operational risk to the American economy – we open the door to a different coalition: insurers, risk officers, military planners, infrastructure investors, appropriators, and business leaders who may never attend a climate conference but understand disruption when they see it.

The country does not need a new awareness campaign about extreme heat. It needs a strategy that aligns risk, responsibility, and reward. Only then will the conversation – and the policy – evolve.

Ashley Ward is a climate scholar who directs the Heat Policy Innovation Hub at Duke University’s Nicholas Institute for Energy, Environment & Sustainability.