Editorial: Why Berlin Might Reconsider Ramstein – Following the Lead of Spain and Italy

In the escalating U.S.-led military campaign against Iran, two key NATO allies have drawn a firm line. Spain has not only barred American forces from its jointly operated bases at Rota and Morón but, as of March 30, 2026, has closed its airspace entirely to any U.S. aircraft involved in operations tied to the conflict. Italy has similarly refused permission for American planes to use the strategically vital Sigonella air base. These decisions have forced the rerouting of U.S. tankers, drones, and support aircraft—many of which have landed at Ramstein Air Base in Germany. Yet while Washington continues to rely heavily on Ramstein as its central European command hub for drone strikes and missile coordination, Berlin now faces mounting pressure to ask itself the same question Madrid and Rome have already answered: Is this use of sovereign territory compatible with our national interests, our laws, and our values?

Germany is not Spain or Italy, of course. Ramstein is the largest U.S. Air Force installation outside the United States, headquarters of U.S. Air Forces in Europe and Africa, and a linchpin of NATO’s collective defense architecture. Chancellor Friedrich Merz and Defense Minister Boris Pistorius have repeatedly stated that the base’s current role complies with German law and bilateral agreements. Iranian diplomats have demanded clarification, but Berlin insists it is not a belligerent. Still, the logic that led Spain and Italy to act could prove compelling in Berlin for several interlocking reasons.

First, domestic politics and public sentiment are shifting. Germany’s post-war constitution and its deeply ingrained “culture of restraint” (Kultur der Zurückhaltung) have long made offensive operations from German soil politically toxic. Opposition parties on the left, including Die Linke and elements within the Greens and SPD, are already warning that Ramstein’s role in coordinating strikes on Iran risks turning Germany into a de facto co-belligerent. Polls consistently show a majority of Germans oppose direct involvement in Middle East wars, especially when framed as support for unilateral U.S. and Israeli actions that many view as lacking UN authorization. A government that prides itself on multilateralism and international law could find it increasingly difficult to ignore this groundswell—particularly if opposition voices frame the issue as a choice between Berlin’s sovereignty and Washington’s convenience.

Second, the legal and constitutional case is far from settled. While the 2025 Federal Constitutional Court ruling clarified that Germany bears limited liability for U.S. drone operations launched from Ramstein, it did not grant the U.S. carte blanche. The Basic Law (Grundgesetz) strictly limits the use of German territory for acts of war unless they fall under collective self-defense or explicit parliamentary approval. Critics argue that the current Iran campaign—launched without a fresh UN mandate—stretches those boundaries. Spain’s government cited precisely this concern when it declared its bases off-limits “except in cases of humanitarian necessity.” If German legal experts or the Bundestag’s foreign affairs committee reach a similar conclusion, the political cost of maintaining the status quo could quickly outweigh the alliance-management benefits.

Third, there is the question of security and retaliation. Iran has already signaled that it considers Ramstein a legitimate node in the U.S. war machine. With Iranian proxies and long-range capabilities demonstrated in recent weeks, German cities and infrastructure could face heightened risk. Spain and Italy made their decisions in part to reduce their exposure; Berlin, hosting the single most visible U.S. hub in Europe, cannot pretend the same calculus does not apply. In an era of hybrid threats and potential cyber or missile escalation, a government elected to protect German citizens might conclude that limiting Ramstein’s offensive role is simply prudent risk management rather than anti-Americanism.

Fourth, strategic autonomy and European solidarity are gaining traction. The sight of Spain and Italy—both longstanding U.S. partners—acting in concert has underscored a growing European desire to avoid being drawn into every American conflict by default. Germany, as the EU’s economic engine and de facto leader, has long talked about “strategic sovereignty.” Following Madrid and Rome would not mean abandoning NATO; it would mean asserting that host-nation consent is not a rubber stamp. It would also send a powerful signal that Europe can set limits on how its territory is used when Washington’s objectives diverge from European priorities—energy security, de-escalation in the Middle East, and avoidance of wider war.

None of this is inevitable. The Merz government has so far prioritized alliance loyalty, and Ramstein’s operational importance to U.S. forces in Europe remains enormous. Yet the precedent set by Spain and Italy is now on the table. If German public opinion hardens, if legal challenges intensify, or if the conflict’s costs—diplomatic, economic, or security-related—continue to rise, Berlin could decide that the responsible course is the same one taken in Madrid and Rome: not hostility toward Washington, but a clear-eyed defense of its own sovereignty and the principle that European soil should not automatically serve as an extension of distant wars.

In the end, the question is not whether Germany must follow Spain and Italy. It is whether it can afford not to—politically, legally, and strategically. The coming weeks will test whether Berlin’s traditional transatlantic reflex still outweighs a growing European instinct for independent judgment. History suggests that when enough allies say “enough,” even the strongest partnership must adapt. Ramstein may yet become the next test case.