High in the Ethiopian highlands stands an exemplary monument to Goal's contribution in the Third World. The health clinic in the dusty outpost of Weyra, in Guraghe province, is the largest building for miles around. Its spacious corridors dominate the tin and straw huts housing the townspeople.

The clinic, officially opened last December, cost about £120,000 to build. Half came from the Irish government, half from Goal. It should have marked the culmination - and the end - of the agency's five-year involvement in Weyra.

The problem was that no-one told this to the Ethiopian government. When Goal tried to hand over the clinic, the government baulked. It had no budget to take on the building and its staff of 22. Faced with financial cuts at home, Goal pleaded with the Department of Foreign Affairs to foot the bill. It refused.

Goal's director, Mr John O'Shea, travelled to Ethiopia this spring, intending to close the project. But, faced with the concrete reality of a fully-built clinic, he changed his mind and decided to continue funding for another two years.

When I visited Weyra in April, the clinic director showed me around a succession of bright, clean - and virtually empty - rooms. Dr Geira Baruda explained that he had almost no equipment. He wasn't clear where it would come from. In any case, he said, the diesel generator was too expensive to run, so it only came on at night. His supply of drugs fitted on top of a table.

Dr Geira said his government might have been prepared to take on a small health centre but not the large-scale project which was eventually built. "They said they never agreed to this."

Weyra shows that good intentions are not enough in the aid business. Because of the uncertainty over its future funding, the clinic risks becoming another monument to unsustainable development - another white elephant.

In 20 years of disaster relief work, Goal has had many successes. It ran the best-organised refugee camps along the Rwandan border. It brought food and shelter rapidly wherever these were needed. John O'Shea's forceful arguments put Irish aid in the centre of public debate and raised millions for the Third World.

Certainly O'Shea ruffled feathers. Pictures of volunteers in Goal T-shirts working with famine victims were condemned as crass by rival agencies, though they sometimes followed suit. His argument that black African governments could not be trusted was definitely not politically correct. But no-one cared once the money was raised and the world's poor were being assisted.

In the last two years, however, everything has gone wrong. Goal expanded rapidly in anticipation of a bigger slice of the Irish aid cake. It didn't get it. The agency's "send in the troops" style was increasingly seen as outdated, and especially ill-suited to the kind of longer-term development contracts Goal was seeking.

An accountant's review of the finances set the alarm bells ringing last year. Even though Goal had £1.8 million in reserve, O'Shea decided on severe cuts. With scant regard for long-term planning, Goal pulled out abruptly from a number of developing countries.

"It was the way things were cut back, not the cutbacks themselves. A lot of people were kicked in the teeth," says one former executive. "Everything is there for it to be the best organisation in the world. But it loses people too easily. And it's continually reinventing the wheel."

In Rwanda, dozens of volunteers were sent into the refugee camps along the border and plans were laid for development projects in the country itself.

"Rwanda went to their heads," said one former volunteer. "They got all the acclaim in the industry and the positive publicity. Goal went overnight from being a relief organisation to a development one - but without changing its management structure." Houses were to be built, schools refurbished and water supplied to rural communities. But when the cuts were made last year, the axe fell quickly. Staff were informed by phone or fax.

Some had just arrived in the country and were left to make their own decisions. Local people saw their would-be saviours disappear as quickly as they came.

But within two months Goal was back in Rwanda. The refugees had returned home and O'Shea, against the advice of senior managers, decided to send in a team of 10. They were unable to find much to do and withdrew within a couple of months. This mission cost more than £13,000.

Former staff in other countries tell similar tales of poor communication and - at best - ad hoc management. One told me that when she arrived in Tanzania, she found someone already doing the job to which she had been assigned. He hadn't been told she was coming.

When the project was closed, word was given by an official in Dublin. "There were no visits from Ireland, no face-to-face explanations, no attempts to find funding from other sources."

Two years ago, in recognition of its growth, Goal brought in a team of senior managers with experience in development. But most of these left late last year after a series of internal rows. Now the Department has suspended funding of new projects, worth almost £1 million. The two sides are locked in an acrimonious battle coloured by political, policy and personal differences. If ever there was a situation needing emergency relief, it's this one.