I think it’s safe to say that most people — when they ponder the issue of right and wrong — think of morality as having a basis in revealed knowledge. (Think of the “Ten Commandments” and the way that conservatives repeatedly point to them as the “Judeo-Christian foundation” of all that is good and lawful about the United States of America).
But there are a few of us (in addition to the scientists and evolutionary psychologists who study such things) that hold the view that human morality and ethics are not rooted in revelations divine, but are naturally-evolved expressions of the never-ending search for a balance between our deeply social — and incurably selfish — natures. The rules we live by are basically the socially-active tools we employ to get as much as we can for ourselves (and our clan) without arousing countering forces from other individuals and groups. In short, this is what cooperation is all about. And from cooperation flows the altruism that marks the “above and beyond” behaviors that qualify as “generous” on the scorecards of human behavior.
Those who see morality as “revealed” strongly believe that anything short of a heavenly, eternal, and immutable source for right and wrong would simply prove unequal to the task of maintaining social order. And so they believe that were the external, revealed (read: Heavenly) authority for our social rules to prove non-existent, morality would instantly lose all meaning (and, therefore, all of it’s power to regulate human behavior). Little wonder, then, that they hold so fast to the belief that God is behind everything.
But instead of being the actual state of morality’s affairs, this is much more a case where the belief in a divine moral source itself can, in some ways, create the reality it claims already exists. In short, the belief precedes the reality that is held up as proof for the belief itself. For, according to many writers, the codes of religion developed as a way to (among other aims) make people behave better when no-one was physically watching them (as populations grew, and spread beyond direct supervisory control). I think this makes sense: the invisible, distant God is the perfect spy (the “inescapable tyrant” as Christopher Hitchens called it) that we can never really be sure is not watching our every move (and, even better, hearing our every secret thought).
So it could well be that, upon a sudden mass realization that God does not exist (and, therefore, that morality is not sacralized by his imprint) a good many people might decide to run amok. I think that this would be a short-lived phenomena, as those who behaved in a lawless manner would shortly run into serious legal and interpersonal issues of a very present, human kind (unless, of course, it became a society-wide collapse, which would be a much more serious issue, albeit one that occurs — one should note — with regularity in human societies, and that with God still firmly in his Heaven).
But on the other side of the fence (from the religiously inclined) are those who believe that we can use our reason to create a better system of ethics without God as the source. I think this is correct, up to a point. But sometimes those who eschew God as a source can go wrong if what they are really proposing is a belief that there exists in nature a perfect law that we can discover and align ourselves with. As philosophers have noted, this is not much different from the religious seeking a revealed source to bulk up an authoritative claim for a particular brand of morality, only in this case the revelation is sought in nature. Both are locked into a quest for an ultimate, unquestionable moral authority.
The fundamental problem we must contend with is that ethics and morality, which are really an evolved (and evolving) social tool for (evolved and evolving) social animals, exist in a natural world that is ever only “balanced” in an ever-shifting-mid-point-between-competing-forces sort of way. Nothing is fixed in this world. And that, I’m afraid, applies to morality as well.
If we are honest with ourselves, the truth of the relativity of morality is evident all around (and within) us. Almost every sin we can conceive of exists on a sliding moral scale, even the most heinous ones (such as murder which can, in certain circumstances, be “justified”). We cry for justice and plead for mercy with equal vigor. (This is why we have juries to decide issues that, were they truly black and white, would require no deliberation at all).
The upshot of this reality is that with morality — as with our interactions with our natural environment — the best that we can do is to limit the inputs into the system that are pushing things out of “balance”, and hope that the adjustments we make are wise ones so that the ever-swinging pendulum swings in a more constrained, sustainable arc.
With humans this means combating the obvious abuses that increase human misery, and attempting to encourage the positive actions that provide opportunity for more and more humans to have meaningful lives. (Now just exactly what makes a human life meaningful is going to have many different definitions to different people. But this is part of the complexity of life that makes the idea of a sort of revealed universal morality so suspect: it won’t work equally well for all peoples everywhere).
So it seems that the best we can do is, well, the best that we can do. Abandoning the idea of perfect law (whether given by God or revealed by nature) is a good start. At least then we are starting off from a semi-solid common-grounding in reality.
So I don’t think humankind needs any new “holy books” or revelations. And our future does not lie in our past. Human morality and beliefs have been evolving for fifty-thousand years, and even the great religious world views that have imprinted themselves on our moral minds (and seem to be permanent cultural fixtures) had a beginning, a middle, and may one day have an “end”. If they do end, they will not leave a world without ethics and morality (just as they did not come to a world without ethics and morality). They will, like the systems of belief that preceded them, simply be replaced by the next and (one assumes) somewhat superior system.
People get pretty damn spun-up around morality. We become indignant, outraged, ready to bring down the hammer of heaven upon those who flout our laws. We could stand to calm down a bit. Not so that we can coast off into lawlessness, but so that we can be more humane and effective in our legislation and enforcement of law. And also that we may begin to appreciate just how much we humans have accomplished in creating the complex, cooperative societies that we have. We’ve come a long way, baby, and when we accept a touch of humility in this area, we are rewarded with an earned sense of pride. Even if it’s not God given.