Sadly I think you're right. The macho chest-beating kind of stuff you mention is definitely abuse in the common sense.
However I'll warn people about the more bearable, long-term stress of this kind of job, which is abusive in a slightly different way.
When I finished uni, I shared a flat with a friend with one of these jobs. Apart from at night, I had the whole flat to myself every weekday night for years. He'd rarely be home for dinner, often our only contact was him standing at my doorway at eleven or midnight, with me basically in bed already chatting with him about how his day went.
I remember locking myself out of the flat once, and I just walked to his work to get his key. My main problem was staying up to wait for him at the end of the day.
During all this time, I never got the impression that IB work was important or interesting. He'd clamour to get his hands on spreadsheet ("model") work, but it never struck me as actually sensible. There were simply too many moving parts on these giant Excel sheets to actually be a real, predictive model. There was no evidence that such a model was a good representation of a supermarket or whatever.
But most of all, the bit that seemed abusive was the way work seemed to happen. Having barely slept, he'd drag himself into the office in the morning. Amazingly, there'd be very little to do. He'd sit around all day until the afternoon, when the MD would come in and demand a 100-page deck done by the next morning.
We never did anything like a movie or a dinner without it being at the very least interrupted by work. Really important stuff like "you have to change the font on p57-89".
This was massively stressful on his relationship as well, and it eventually ended. Work was not the only factor, but it was surely a major contributor.
The trouble is young bankers see the older guys who've made it and think they can make it too. They don't see the survivorship bias, because when you've gone through a top school and uni, you ARE the survivor. The bank makes you think you're the cream of the cream. (One thing that seemed to not cause concern was that a lot of the young bankers were the children of important people, eg CEOs. You'd think that makes your own odd a lot worse.)
My housemate duly looked up to his boss, a guy with a similar background to himself. Perhaps he could work himself up on that team, and build a similar life for himself.
One day, the boss didn't come to work. The bank put out a statement that he'd suffered a heart attack at home, in his 40s. My friend knew that he hadn't. Not long after he left the bank, and shook off the idea of working himself to death.