This is a really nice question, and one with a long pedgree: the British philosopher Mary Midgley once said that, if you really want to understand a philosopher, you need to ask what they are afraid of, what they loathe, what they love - of what goes deep with that philosopher, of what 'bone they are compelled to gnaw on', as Hamann once put it, or of what the philosopher wants to 'confess', for Nietzsche. Since this question might invite autobiographical answers, mine - for what it's worth - I find most pleasure in ideas that help to understand and articulate my hostility towards attitudes like arrogance, dogmatism, narrow-mindedness, and so on (what people nowadays call 'intellectual vices'), and, conversely, in ideas that present justice and openness and tolerance. I find beauty in that.

Hi! the question you raise points to a very large set of historical and philosophical issues, and one that, so far, has sustained an equally large mass of scholarship! I'd offer three thoughts on this. 1. The characteristics often proposed for one of these two camps often apply equally as well to the other - for instance, enthusiasm for science, predilection for abstract theorising, careful attention to rational argumentation can be found on both sides of the divide (if there is one!) There is a nice discussion of this in Steven Burwood et al, 'Metaphilosophy: An Introduction' (Cambridge 2013). 2. The norms and forms of philosophical argumentation are not fixed - they are historically and culturally variable, even if, in many cases, they can survive 'de-contextualisation' to a high degree. So the Buddha, Socrates, Aquinas, Boyle, Nagarjuna, Dilthey, Quine, and Heidegger all argue , but the forms, presuppositions, presuppositions, etc., that inform and shape those arguments are very different - so...

A good question! Or rather, two good questions - the first about whether a desire to philosophise is innate in human beings, the second about what being a philosopher in contemporary society means. Taking the first, many philosophers have argued that a desire to philosophise is inherent in all human beings - but, of course, this is different from saying that (1) everyone has the ability to philosophise (or at least, to philosophise well) and that (2) any philosophical ability that they do have has been trained and cultivated. So perhaps everyone wonders about the nature of good and evil - well, that might be the case, but perhaps not everyone has the inclination to work up those wonderings into systematic reflection, and perhaps not everybody will seek out the sorts of rigorous intellectual training that makes someone a professional philosopher. Regarding the second, much also depends on how one wants to define 'philosopher'. If by that you mean an academic philosopher, then activities like...

The question of whether philosophy progress - and, if it does, what sort of progress this might be - is itself a philosophical question, and there are at least two good answers to it. The first is that there is a rather straightforward sense in which philosophy does progress: namely that bad arguments are weeded out and new ideas and arguments and ways of thinking are added - and this is the sort of progress that we see in science and other disciplines, too. The second answer is that philosophy progresses in the sense that it continues to fulfil one of its central: to enable critical reflection on the ideas and activities and concerns that shape and guide human life - helping us to articulate contemporary worries, say, or to identify alternatives to current ways of thinking that, for whatever reason, are no longer fit for purpose. This is a different sense of progress, but there's no reason to insist that philosophy must use the same conception of progress as science! Wittgenstein once said...

One might say that sociology asks what people think and why they think it - for instance how social factors affect their attitudes, ideas, and values and so on - while philosophy is more concerned with (firstly) identifying which attitudes, ideas, and values are defensible (in the sense that good reasons and arguments can be given for them) and (secondly) critically assessing the reasons that people in fact have. After all many of our ideas and values are the results of custom and habit rather than reflection and deliberation, and this can cause problems - as both Socrates and the Buddha recognised long ago - but the question of which discipline (law, sociology, philosophy, etc.) has authority here is a tricky one. Socrates found that society does not always welcome philosophical criticism, though the Buddha fared slightly better through his gentler, less intrusive style of philosophising!