Three years ago, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi chose the Great Mosque
of al-Nuri, in Mosul, as the site to proclaim his new Islamic State. The
mosque, known as al-Hadba, or the “hunchback,” for its leaning minaret,
is a fabled landmark in the Middle East. It dates back to the twelfth
century. The creation of a modern caliphate was symbolized when the
black ISIS flag was hoisted atop the minaret, on July 4, 2014. It was
Baghdadi’s first, and still only, public appearance.

“I do not promise you, as the kings and rulers promise their followers
and congregations, luxury, security, and relaxation,” he said, from
the mosque’s pulpit. “Instead, I promise you what Allah promised his
faithful worshipers”—a jihad to consume all other territory and people
in the world. “This is a duty on Muslims that has been lost for
centuries.”

The Iraqi Army had set its sights on the al-Nuri Mosque as the ultimate
prize in the campaign to oust ISIS from Mosul, which was launched eight
months ago. Ferocious urban battles around the Old City have been fought
within fifty yards of the mosque over the past few days. Iraqis hoped
that their beloved mosque would be liberated by Eid al-Fitr, the joyful
celebration that marks the end of the holy month of Ramadan. Instead, on
Wednesday night, ISIS preëmpted the Army by blowing up the Great Mosque.
Ironically, it acted during the period of Ramadan known as Laylat
al-Qadr, when Muslims believe that the Quran was revealed to the Prophet
Mohammed.

Once again, the Great Mosque of al-Nuri reflects the fate of the world’s
most notorious terrorist group; this time, its demise. The black flag no
longer flies from the tipping minaret.

“Blowing up the al-Hadba minaret and the al-Nuri Mosque amounts to an
official acknowledgement of defeat,” Iraq’s Prime Minister, Haider
al-Abadi, said on Thursday. “It’s a matter of a few days and we will
announce the total liberation of Mosul.”

ISIS is now in retreat from both Mosul, the largest city under its
control, and its pseudo capital, in Raqqa, Syria. In the past month,
fighters from the U.S.-backed Syrian Democratic Forces have taken
territory on the outskirts of Raqqa. At its height, the Islamic State
was roughly the size of the country of Jordan or the state of Indiana.
Since late last year, the group has lost vast swathes of territory in
both Iraq and Syria, with some leaders abandoning major cities for more
remote areas in the Euphrates Valley, between the two countries.

The fate of Baghdadi himself is also increasingly uncertain. On
Thursday, the Russian deputy foreign minister, Oleg
Syromolotov, said that there is now a “high degree of certainty” that
the Islamic State’s emir was “liquidated” in a Russian air strike in
Syria last month. The claim was met with skepticism in Washington. But
U.S. officials admit that they do not know the whereabouts, or status,
of Baghdadi, who was detained by American troops for ten months, in
2004, then released.

Baghdadi’s last known public message was released from hiding in
November, when he appealed to followers not to weaken their commitment
to the ISIS jihad. “Turn the nights of the unbelievers into days,” he
told them. “Wreak havoc in their land, and make their blood flow as
rivers.”

“This raging battle and total war, and the great jihad that the state of
Islam is fighting today, only increases our firm belief, God willing,
and our conviction, that all this is a prelude to victory,” Baghdadi
said. The recording was released online. Not a peep has been heard from
him since.

Baghdadi’s past bravado now rings hollow, especially as other senior
leaders around him are picked off. On Tuesday, the Pentagon announced
that Turki al-Binali, the self-proclaimed Grand Mufti of ISIS—its chief
cleric—had been killed in a U.S. air strike in Syria on May 31st. The
cleric was a close confidant of Baghdadi. He developed ISIS propaganda
and recorded lectures “attempting to justify and encouraging the
slaughter of innocents,” the Pentagon said, in a statement.

Spokesmen for the Islamic State continue to make claims online designed
to encourage its fighters or confuse its enemies. They initially tried
to blame the mosque’s destruction on U.S. air strikes. But Mosul
residents reported this week that they had been shooed away from its
grounds, near the western banks of the Tigris River, as ISIS prepared
for a last stand.

The U.N. special envoy to Iraq, Ján Kubiš, said that the Islamic
State’s decision to blow up the mosque was “a clear sign” of the group’s
imminent collapse. “This latest barbaric act of blowing up a historic
Islamic site adds to the annals of Daesh's crimes against Islamic, Iraqi
and human civilization,” he said, in a statement, and added that it
“shows their desperation and signals their end.”

The destruction of a historic mosque may mark the beginning of the end
of the Islamic State. But then what? The looming issue is what the loss
of its territory means for ISIS as a stateless movement. Its loyalists
still number in the many thousands. And thousands who fought in Iraq and
Syria have already returned home; its influence is now global. It is
still capable of craven violence, from inspiring terrorist attacks in
Britain to waging an insurgency in the Philippines. The scariest
scenario is the prospect of someday feeling nostalgia for a period when
most of ISIS was contained in one place.